


Phantom

by cbjen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbjen/pseuds/cbjen
Summary: Sixteen years of running. Of hiding from the Rebellion and the Resistance. From the Empire, the First Order, and the Sith. All of it gone, in an instant. Some people really were worth losing everything for.In a battle for the Twi'lek homeworld, a daughter of the Rebellion finds her path colliding with a newly minted hero of it: Finn Dameron. And so a young exile finds herself facing down destiny, unable to avoid walking in her parents' footsteps any longer. And, in the process, she discovers a much older legacy: the scars of a great war, left upon the force, from a long, long time ago.





	1. Purpose in Death

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm getting back into publishing fanfic apparently. Given the ties to Rebels, it would technically make more sense to release this after the series finale, when some of the characters' fates are actually known. But, in this story, their lives (and possible deaths) are kept pretty vague and in line with the most likely fan theories. And I just really wanted to get back into putting my writing out there, even if no one reads it. So here we go!

# Book One: Gray

# Chapter One: Purpose in Death

 

 

“ _That_ is a big gun.” 

“Thank you for that very novel insight, Lieutenant,” a gruff voice said, garbled slightly over the outdated comm. “Now cut the chatter.”

A young, human face, framed by thick black hair and a roughspun hood, popped up over a centuries old felled trunk. She crouched, waiting with excited, ragged breaths, at the edge of the conifer tree line. Kira pressed her borrowed binoculars in a tight seal against her sweat-drenched brow. Though the monster was a familiar sight, her eyes still widened at the sight of the Beast.

Two hundred yards away, at the center of a massive First Order installation, was General Nara’s crowning achievement in the occupation of Ryloth. It was an aircraft defense tower, tall as any skyscraper in Coruscant’s upper city. And she could take down starships in orbit while annihilating any light fighters who dared get near the base. 

The Beast changed everything. The newly minted Rebellion — the real Rebellion, with the symbols and the fleet and the whole big deal — could not approach an entire hemisphere of Ryloth, even once they finally wanted to. Practically all Twi’lek air support in the province was grounded, and most of Ryloth’s starships were destroyed within days. The rest were left helplessly orbiting around Ryloth’s moons.

The Damen Province, the core of resistance against the First Order on Ryloth, turned into a no man’s land practically overnight. Every freedom fighter and refugee was forced into secret underground bunkers and hidden forest caves. With every passing day, the Beast turned its attention to bombarding more and more of the planet’s surface. Forests and villages and farms turned to smoking craters in seconds. And the growing First Order fleet above the planet was all too happy to chip in every now and again.

But Ryloth survived the Clone Wars. The Empire. The hard and rocky years in between. These punks calling themselves the First Order were no match for children of the Rebellion. Ryloth had faith and strength, which the First Order, despite all their might, was unable to quash. And that was before the Rebellion finally stepped up, offering their assistance.

At least, that was what Lieutenant Kira kept telling herself.

“This commander’s plan had better actually work,” a thickly accented voice whispered in Kira’s ear. The human ducked back behind the massive fallen tree to raise an eyebrow at her superior officer — a battle-scarred, blue-skinned Twi-lek — as she continued. “Because I still think it sounds like a suicide mission.”

“General Taenara, I’m wounded,” Kira said dramatically, holding a hand over her heart. “Do you trust my intel — and my people — or not?”

“Even if your intel is good — even if we can bring that cannon and its shields offline for a few minutes—”

“Commander Dameron will come through,” Kira insisted fiercely. “I’ve seen him in action before. We can trust him and his squad.”

“You’re blinded by your past, Kira,” Tae said softly. She placed one hand warmly on the human's shoulder. “No matter what the two of you share, no matter what you think you _owe_ him, that doesn’t mean this plan is fated to work—” 

“The Force is strong with us,” Kira insisted, willing her prayer to be true. “And this isn’t about Poe and me. This is a good plan. A solid plan. _You_ signed off on it, along with all the other generals. My faith in Commander Dameron's not blind. His record speaks for itself. And we will not let Ryl—”

“Positions. Ready Phase One.”

General Mika’s gruff voice sounded over the comm line like an electric shock, running throughout the entire Ryloth resistance surrounding the First Order base. Kira imagined she could feel it, resonating with the Force. She could feel their troops getting into position. She could feel the ships dropping out of hyperspace above, undetected. She could feel the First Order double agents on the ground disabling the sensor arrays. She could feel those same agents preparing to disable the Beast’s shields on the field below.

She could feel their imminent victory. Ryloth would be free. It had to be. Kira had a debt to pay. A promise to keep.

It was so tantalizingly close. So intoxicating and wonderful and _perfect._ So beautiful an ideal that she never felt the disturbance in the Force. The wrinkle in the flow of battle as they leaped from behind the treeline — blasters in hand, Blurgg-mounted cannons and tanks and repurposed old AT-STs at the ready — praying for glorious victory with every footfall in the dusty, parched earth.

Then, the Rebel fighter pilots arrived. A exuberant roar went up from Ryloth’s army at the sight of them, deafening over the comm channel, even in the chaos of battle. They brought a fleet of X-wings and A-wings, unopposed and wreaking havoc upon the base below. And, among them soared one of the most famous ships in the entire galaxy. Commander Dameron’s fresh-off-the-line, Rebellion-orange B-wing, it’s devastating main weapon priming to fire at the behemoth boogeyman at the other end of the battlefield.

And as it did, as Kira watched the red beams of the B-wing’s star destroyer _destroying_  cannon come to a point, she knew.

She stopped mid-fight, paying little heed to the songs of battle around her, and shouted into the comm unit of her prosthetic left arm.

“Poe! Pull back! All fighters pull back! Now!”

“Who-”

The B-wing fired at the Beast, the points of red light from its four bladed wings coming into perfect harmony and creating a weapon of mass destruction. It released its torrent right at the base of the skyscraper, and the light immediately hit an invisible energy shield. The shield that was supposed to disabled. The shield that _Kira’s_ agents were supposed to have disabled. The shield they had _confirmation_ was disabled. And when the B-wing’s charge was spent — and Poe Dameron had flown past on his one and only real shot — the First Order’s trump card was left unscathed.

The Beast fired one of its anti-aircraft guns — a minute blast, compared to its full power — with devastating accuracy at one of the X-wings. And the cry that tore at the air — echoing over the Rebellion comm channel — was unforgettable.  

“Finn!”

More fighters went down in the sky above. But Kira barely noticed the fire as it swept over the once-blue sky of Ryloth. She never even heard Commander Dameron or General Mika give the order to retreat. All she saw was the single burning X-wing hurling toward the planet’s surface, about to crash right into the remainder of General Taenara’s squad.

All instinct, Kira fled her position — firing her blaster at any stormtrooper who dared stand in her way — and charged up the disk-shaped energy shield from her bracer. There was no chance this was going to work. She was going to die. They were all going to die.

She stormed toward Taenara. Toward the point where the X-wing was about to crash. Tae looked up from barrel of her gun toward the combusting sky, just in time take in Kira’s desperate attempt with wide, violet eyes. Kira grabbed her, pulled her, shielded her. And prayed. A fierce fire erupted around them, fighting the deflector shield, burning away its charge. Kira felt shockwaves and shrapnel blasting against the shield and the metal arm with which she wielded it, shaking and threatening to shatter her very bones. The deflector shield cracked and fractured. All that stood between the woman Kira loved and a great inferno was a few more seconds of its charge. And some ancient Mandalorian armor.

Then, the searing heat and pain — the shout of a raging monster — stopped. Somehow, it was enough.

Taenara was safely cradled against Kira’s body, unharmed. And, over the comm, a single furious voice roused Kira back to the moment at hand.

“Damn it, Tae, answer me!”

“I’m here, General,” Taenara coughed, looking up at Kira with confused but grateful eyes. Kira held the comm unit in her wrist up to Tae, keeping her other arm tightly wrapped around the Twi'lek's shoulders. “I’m alright, Mika. Dammit. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”

The two women helped each other up, looking around for a second at the carnage. The battlefield was oddly still, in the aftermath. Kira realized they must have been dazed by the blast for more than just a moment.

Crashed fighters littered the field. Tae’s squad was decimated. Most squadrons — Twi’lek and First Order alike — were just _gone_. Kira felt angry, hot tears welling to the corners of her eyes. Guilt and rage threatened to overtake her. Beneath her armor, where her prosthetic was bonded to her torso, searing pain erupted. Kira felt like her entire body was splintering from within, threatening to tear itself apart.

This was her fault. Her intelligence was faulty. And her agents? They failed. Or Kira had failed them. 

“Don’t start down that path,” Tae said, roughly taking Kira's face in both her hands. She watched the human warily. “You have no idea what happened. But we can hash out blame and demotions and court marshals later, if that’s what you want, my _ayy_. Right now we just have to _survive._ Come on, love.”

Kira wiped hastily at her tears, observing that Tae never bothered to hide her own. And then she felt it. The light. She held up a hand and tilted her head to _listen._ Not with her still-ringing ears, but with something else.

“This way!” Kira insisted, darting off back toward the tree-line, in the exact opposite direction of the rendezvous.

“For fuck’s sake — where are you — Kira!” 

Tae chased after her lieutenant, struggling to catch up as she limped on a sprained ankle and maneuvered over broken corpses. Kira glanced over her shoulder with every few steps, but she pressed forward. She fixated on her new target, knowing the general would be safe in her wake. Tae could curse her out for it later.

And thirty yards into the forest was an unconscious Rebel pilot. His signature bright orange flight suit was heavily stained with fresh blood. His parachute was already detached, a dead stormtrooper lay nearby, and a standard-issue blaster rested limply in the pilot's hand.

“Damn! He must have ejected safely, but he was pursued,” Tae said, kneeling down next to him mournfully. “Hell of an ironic way to go — oh! He’s breathing!”

“Of course he is,” Kira chuckled with a small, sad smile. She knelt down next to the pilot. “Why do you think we’re here?”

“How did you even — oh, right,” Tae stopped herself, rolling her eyes. “You know, you could have told me that’s why we were running here _five damn minutes ago._ ”

“No time,” Kira said. She applied heavy pressure to the shrapnel wound in his bicep. “Lacerated a major artery. He’s lost a lot of blood. Give me your scarf or a medipac or something, and call it in.”


	2. Freedom in Life

 

The pilot jolted up out of bed, nearly ramming his skull right into Kira’s. She had been sitting at the edge of his cot, checking on his wounds. The Ryloth resistance was short on proper medical supplies — and properly trained staff — and nasty wound infections were not unheard of in the last few weeks. Kira’s meager field medic training was as needed as ever.

Kira reeled back, heart racing, and immediately threw her hands up in a placating gesture. The pilot’s dark eyes darted about the makeshift medical bay, panicked like a caged animal. Kira felt the two on-duty guards by the storage room door behind her tense up and reach for their blasters.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, buddy!” she said quickly, to _everyone_ in the room. “We’re friends!”

The pilot scanned her face, nonplussed, before turning his attention back to the edges of the room. His uninjured arm reached instinctively down to his hip, and both disappointment and panic registered when he found no blaster there.

“One of you, go find General Taenara,” Kira ordered over her shoulder, turning her head only slightly.

One of the guards obliged, walking off at a good clip. Kira kept her eyes fixated warily on the pilot. She lowered her hands, slowly, and did her best to keep her voice soothing and calm. She did not want to have to injure the poor man further, if things went south.

“We’re freedom fighters, like you,” she explained. “On Ryloth. You were shot down. Do you remember?”

“What are _you_ doing on Ryloth?” he asked suspiciously, pulling the covers a little higher over his naked torso.

“Sorry about that, I was just changing your dressing,” Kira added hastily. “You were injured. I’ll have someone find you a shirt.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out. And then, to follow up, the pilot asked, “Are you a doctor?”

“I know I didn't. I'm getting there. And no,” Kira said, smiling sadly. “In another life, I'd have liked that. Being a doctor. Spent a lot of time working in a clinic, once, on Coruscant. It was — well, it would have been a good life. But, I had other responsibilities. Other debts. Like the one that brought me here. It’s _unusual,_ but the gang’s getting used to it, right Gaben?”

The Twi’lek soldier guarding the storage-room-turned-medbay flashed Kira a smirk. “Sure, we put up with the human. Most of the time,” he laughed. “Mostly because the General would have us on latrine duty for a month if we gave the lieutenant too much grief, but still.”

“Hey!” Kira quipped back, flashing the private an incredulous smile. “And here I thought you lot were genuinely warming up to me.”

“Ah, she’s not all bad,” Gaben said warmly, turning to the pilot. “Saved your life.”

“Saved — oh,” the pilot took in that news sheepishly, relaxing a bit while he pulled up the blanket more. He warmly extended a hand. “Then, I guess, thank you.”

Kira clasped his hand in her own, shaking it gingerly. “Hey, we’ve got to look out for eachoth-”

She cut herself off, catching the glint of a ring on the pilot’s hand. It was just a band of silver. A simple, but very familiar band of silver. One Kira had not seen since she was a child. She supposed it must look like so many others of its kind, but this one was special. It _resonated_ in a way no language Kira knew could quite describe.

“You’re Finn,” she said bluntly, staring him straight in the eyes. “The Finn.”

“Yeah,” Finn said slowly, confusion crossing his face as his brow furrowed. “I get that a lot. How did you just—”

A wide, warm smile spread across Kira’s face, as the pieces of this small but very significant puzzle all fell into place. Without warning — and without considering his upper extremity wound — she pulled Finn into a fierce hug.

“That’s — ow — well, that’s definitely _more_ than the reaction I usually get,” Finn said slowly.

“Sorry!” Kira said hastily, pulling away while never taking her elated gaze off of him. “It’s just — you — I — well, damn, Dameron did good.”

“Dameron? You know Poe?” Finn asked.

It was his turn to show affection, to place a hand on Kira shoulder. To find a point of connection, even as he still looked very thoroughly confused. Then, the confusion passed, and stern conviction seemed to fill him. Restore him.

“Then you know. I have to get back to the Fleet,” Finn insisted.

“That’s not going to happen,” a voice rang out, from just beyond the makeshift doorway of curtained privacy barriers. Kira turned to see General Taenara, looking properly intimidating in her battle-marked armor. “The First Order is jamming all long-range communications. We can’t get in touch with the Resistance. We don’t even know if the Fleet is still up there, staying out of range of the Beast, or if they’ve jumped to hyperspace.”

“They’re up there,” Finn insisted.

Kira looked over to see a fierce passion burning in his dark eyes. Even Tae, perpetual cynic that she was, looked a little impressed. Kira stood from the bedside, standing at attention, and gave a nod of reassurance to Finn.

“General, this is Captain Finn Dameron,” Kira said, watching the flicker of recognition — and of warning — flash across the general’s face. “And he’s right. They’re still up there. They wouldn’t turn tail now.”

“Private, would you give us the room?” Tae ordered.

Gaben raised an eyebrow at Kira, but he nodded with a quick “yes, ma’am” and was on his way.

“Tae-”

“Do not start with me, _Lieutenant,_ ” Taenara growled. Suddenly, Kira remembered a meeting with the General Counsel had just concluded. It had not gone well, apparently. “We will not risk all of of Ryloth — all of _my_ people — on your gut feeling.”

“It’s not-”

“We will not survive another assault, especially if we are expecting reinforcements that never arrive! Look at what happened last time, Kira. I’m not saying-”

“I know!” Kira shouted, earning a stern glare of warning. She clenched her jaw and fists, trying to wrestle back control. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. Kira started again, more quietly this time, “I know. And I am _not_ advocating jumping into a bad plan, especially one based on _my_ intel or instincts. Not after last time.

“Tae, I may not have grown up on Ryloth — but, well, I just — Hera _was_ my mother. One of them, anyhow. Ryloth is my home, as much as anywhere else. These are my people, too. And there won’t be many of us left to liberate if we don’t do something _soon._ Every day, every _hour_ that we wait, that damn cannon blasts more of our world and our people into oblivion.”

“We know,” Taenara sighed. “ _I know, ayy._ We’re working on it. I’m just saying we have to find a way that doesn’t rely on the Rebellion fleet, because we _literally can’t talk to them,_ Kira.”

“We could take out their jamming-”

“We’ve got people on it, Lieutenant,” Tae said curtly. An icy silence threatened to take hold of the room, but Taenara was the first to calm herself. She walked over to Kira, and she took the human's one remaining organic hand in both of her own. “Look, my _ayy_ , what happened today, it — it didn’t go down the way you think. With your agents. It wasn’t your fault, love. I need to debrief you.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready-”

“Your agents didn’t turn on you,” Taenara said. Kira’s gaze immediately shot up from the floor, but she still felt a sickly dread pooling in her stomach. “And one of them is still alive. She reported in.”

Finn watched the whole exchange like a fast-paced game of Sabbac, until he finally chimed in, “Your agents?”

“You thought you were the only sod in the whole First Order to see the light?” Kira asked, one eyebrow arched even as emotion choked at her throat. “Before things on Ryloth escalated into _open_ warfare, we were preparing. I took measures that, well, not everyone was exactly thrilled with. Like turning First Order officers.”

“And it worked?” Finn asked skeptically. “The First Order doesn’t let go easily.”

“So I learned. There were a lot of ... failed attempts,” Kira said, swallowing hard. “Assets who just _disappeared._ But I still managed to establish a network, and they — Taenara, who is it?”

“Ursara Nyx. She claims that after the disappearance of Lieutenant Mandaran — and General Mika’s sources confirm the First Order had him interrogated and executed — Nyx was spooked. She ran, and she was pursued. She says she was unable to get a message to you without compromising the Resistance. Thus far, we believe her,” Taenara explained. “I’ll get you a full report.”

“I need to-”

“You can conduct your own interrogation once the official investigation is concluded,” Taenara said harshly. “This one’s too close to the vest for you, little _ayy._ ”

A pall fell over the room, before Finn broke the silence, “Your people. They were supposed to disable the shield generators. The Beast.”

“I’m sorry. I should have supported them better. Trained them better,” Kira sighed, balling her hands into tight fists. “There must have been something-”

“Enough,” Taenara said, though not unkindly. “Enough. If we live through this, we can unpack our lessons. Our grief and our apologies. Use them against the First Order in the battles to come. _If_ we live. For now, we press on. We survive. And you two — I know it’s not exactly your strong suit — but you just follow orders.”

Taenara turned on her heel to leave, but Kira could not help interrupting one last time. “You don’t have a plan,” she insisted. “Certainly not a good one. I’m just going to say it, one more time. There’s always-”

“ _Follow orders_ , crazy,” Tae sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “And both of you, get some rest. There won’t be much time for it, in the days to come.”


	3. Without the Serenity to See

Kira slept, but she would hardly call the hours in her bunk restful. Her dreams and nightmares were punctuated with something more sinister, with visions of grief and anger.

A child raised among an imperial war machine, mourning a dead friend. Fleeing for her life, racked with guilt over a failed mission.

A pilot collapsed beneath the wing of his fighter, believing the love of his life to be dead, no amount of reassurance from friends and loved ones able to reach him.

A jedi who _knew_ her friend was alive out there, somewhere. A jedi trying to reach out to find him, and instead finding someone _else._

A darker force, hidden in the depths of the galaxy. Flashes of a long dead world. Ancient corpses and even older temples strewn across a battlefield. Three children and five sabers. A fierce battle within a sealed tomb, waiting for its echoes to truly be heard, ending in remorse.

And on the silent battlefield, their footsteps echoing in ground bone, a familiar face. A young woman, barely more than a child, dark eyes locking onto Kira’s own. So much understanding and kindness in them. So much ferocity and determination. And, beneath it all, a warning. Just as the red glow of a lightsaber ignited the stagnant air.

Kira bolted upright in her bunk, only just narrowly remembering to dodge the low ceiling overhead. The image of the lightsaber’s blade stayed, unrelenting in her mind’s eye. So many of the visions changed, night after night. But that one remained, bludgeoning her over the skull again and again. Kira imagined it would continue, until the vision actually came to pass.

She dressed in the dead of night, silent as a shadow, careful not to disturb her three bunkmates. Sleep would not return that night, and there was no point in pretending otherwise. Instead, Kira walked restlessly to the upper levels of the base. It was a simple, hastily constructed sad affair of concrete, left over from the Clone Wars. Kira doubted Darth Sidious personally signed off on the funding, considering how it would ultimately be used against the Empire during the Rebellion. Now, though everything from the color schemes of the peeling paint to the rusting old computers were hopelessly outdated, the base served the Rebellion again. Some names and faces changed, but little else.

Up on the first level, the only place where any natural light could be found — filtering through hidden slit windows that could be covered and camouflaged at a moment’s notice — Kira saw Finn looking morosely out to the horizon. She hesitated, watching from the shadows of the darkened entry chamber. Kira felt a strong connection to the young soldier, but that connection was unbalanced. He knew nothing of her, but she knew more of his story than Finn could possibly realize. As she waited, wondering, Kira's musings started to feel rather voyeuristic. So, with a deep and steadying breath, she finally stepped next to Finn Dameron.

“Hell of a view, isn’t it?” she asked, looking out across the plateau through one of the narrow windows.

“Yeah,” Finn said sadly. “This place. I’ve just been thinking. How could anyone look at a planet like this and want to destroy it?”

“How could anyone wanna destroy Alderaan? Or Jedha? Or Taris, two thousand years ago?” Kira sighed. “Ryloth’s annihilation will be slower, but still. This is about sending a message. Ryloth’s slow death echoes across the galaxy, to hold out worlds all throughout the Rim.

“The leaders of the First Order, they see more beauty in death than life. More allure in _power_ and domination than anything in the galaxy. That is a lust I fear they will spread, to guide many more Imperial and Sith wannabes, before their reign is brought to an end.”

“You sound like a jedi,” Finn noted, brow furrowed. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“I studied them. Grew up on stories of them. Wanted to be one, as a child. Who wouldn’t?” Kira admitted with a sheepish grin. “But you, you know a jedi. Don’t you?”

“Rey,” Finn said sadly. He said her name like a prayer.

“You’ll get back to her,” Kira said, trying to believe it herself. “She needs you, I think.”

“Why-”

“There’s a spark in you, Finn. What you’ve been through. What you’ve done. Turning from the First Order. The Rebellion needs to remember the power of that. They need to remember how much of the first rebellion was built on Imperial defectors. On people who found the spark of light still left inside them — who saw the truth of the Empire, of the machine they were trapped inside — and who were brave enough to change.”

“Your agents, that’s why you do it,” Finn observed, turning to face Kira. She resolutely kept looking forward. “You were in the First Order.”

“No,” she said, turning to face him now. All things considered, it certainly wasn't a bad guess. “I told you, I know Poe. Grew up together on Yavin-4. My parents fought for the Rebellion. But, before she joined the Rebels, my mother designed weapons for the Empire. And then she saw what those bastards _did_ with her creations. She saw the Empire for what they truly were. Instead of running and hiding — or, worse, ignoring the truth and staying with the Empire out of fear — she was strong and smart enough to change. To fight.

“And, sure, she fought with guns and ships and a lot of bombs. _A lot_ of bombs,” Kira said with a wry smile. “But she also turned some of her people — Imperial cadets and family and others from her homeworld — to the Rebel cause. And their combined effort made the Rebellion so much stronger than just taking out some ships or stormtroopers.

“Your friend. Rey. And Poe and all the rest, too, to be sure. But _Rey._ To see the spark of light in one’s enemy — to find the non-violent path, or at least the _less_ violent path — that’s the way of a true Jedi. The Rebellion seems to be forgetting that. They need to remember.”

Kira reached up a hand and grasped Finn's shoulder, fire in her deep blue eyes. Someone once told Kira that she got her penchant for impassioned speeches from her father. She only remembered one of his orations, from an old and crackling audio recording. At one point, she listened to that recording every day. She played it as she fell asleep. Or when she was feeling very scared. It comforted her. And, more importantly, it inspired her.

Finn certainly seemed like he needed some inspiration now. So, for that matter, did Kira.

“This is how we win,” Finn said, and it sounded like he was repeating some great piece of ancient wisdom. “Not by fighting what we hate, but by saving what we love. Friend of mine taught me that.”

“Smart friend,” Kira said with a sorrowful smile. “We’ll get you back to them. Somehow.”

“I-”

Finn was cut off by a nearby explosion. Violent orange vibrated through the base’s walls, disturbing the tranquility of the night. For the briefest moment, Kira wondered if their position was compromised. She saw the question in Finn’s well trained eyes, as well. She watched his hand instinctively move for an absent blaster, yet again. But, the blast was focused on a nearby and long-evacuated town. Count on the First Order to ensure any survivors would have nothing to return home to, simply to rub salt in the wound.

“That’s not for us. I mean, it is, but not for the base,” Kira sighed, squeezing Finn’s shoulder. He relaxed a little under her touch. “You were saying?”

Finn stayed silent a long while, watching the fire rage at the edge of the plateau. It spread to the nearby forest, rapidly igniting the drought-parched pines. Finally, Finn spoke.

“You seem so sure. That we’ll survive. That I’ll see my friends. That this world will go on. And then the First Order keeps doing _that_ ,” he said, gesturing out the narrow window. “Why? How?”

“I have to hold on to hope, Finn,” she said, turning away from the inferno. “Learned that the hard way, when I was really young. Hope is all that gets you through the long, dark nights. You have to believe that the light is out there, somewhere. It’s a big galaxy, after all. And, in this one thing, I’ve never been wrong before.”

She let go of Finn's shoulder, giving him a final, affectionate pat. This ex-buckethead, this husband of Poe Dameron, he was really not what Kira was expecting. He gave the young lieutenant much to reflect on, regarding the war and its leadership. She would seek out somewhere to meditate, alone, for the rest of the long night.

Finn grabbed Kira's hand, for only a second, just to get her attention. “That smart friend of mine? I think the two of you would get along."

“I hope I get to meet them someday,” Kira said, looking over her shoulder as she headed out. “Look, we’ll talk more tomorrow. But, I think you’re ready to try and get some rest now. Goodnight, Finn.”


	4. The Strength to Act

“I’m sorry about Mandax,” Kira said, sitting across the interrogation room table. 

She traced the rough wood grain with the tips of her fingers, but Kira never took her eyes off Officer Ursara Nyx. The interrogation rooms of the Rylothian base were as claustrophobic and unforgiving as any other, but their organic nature — not to mention the lack of torture devices — spoke volumes about the Twi’lek lurking in the shadowed corners of the room. Kira actually knew what a First Order holding cell looked like. She wondered if the First Order officer in front of her could even recognize this interrogation room for what it was.

“Keeping his cover, keeping him safe, that was my responsibility, and I failed-”

“He tried to access General Nara’s personal data core,” Nyx interrupted. “Command tried to keep it quiet, but we all heard the rumors. Even in the First Order, gossip spreads like wildfire among the lower ranks. Always suspected Mandy was one of us. He was a friend, but he kept those sort of things close to the vest. I wish I knew. I could have helped. I could have-”

“Ended up dead, too,” Kira said harshly, clenching her prosthetic fist beneath the table. “That was not his mission, nor yours. And as your handler, this  _ does  _ still fall on me. He should have known better than to take on that kind of risk. And now-”

“A lot of good people are dead,” Ursara finished mournfully, looking up nervously at the two Twi’lek generals waiting in the wings, just over her shoulders.

“One battle is lost, this is true,” General Mika said, stepping out of the shadows. 

His deep red skin seemed to startle Nyx. The wizened old man studied the agent for a long time, as if taking in every piece of her. She cut an imposing figure, even seated at the wrong side of an interrogator’s table. Her curly hair was still neatly slicked back, not a piece out of place. Her skin was so dark it was almost blue under the unusually cool lighting of the room. Her unrestrained hands rested flat and steady, unflinching on the table.

“But the war is just beginning, Ursara Nyx. And you still have a role to play, if you are willing,” Mika continued. “We have a plan. A plan to finally drive the First Order out of this system, once and for all. A desperate plan, perhaps." — Mika's stern gaze lingered on Kira, unflinching. — "But it all hinges on being able to take control of the Beast. Permanently.”

Kira ignored Mika's harsh gaze and turned to her agent, “Can it be done?”

Ursara snapped her attention back to the other human in the room, wide eyes now betraying a hint of panic. Nyx studied Kira for a long time, searching those deep blue eyes for  _ something.  _ Reassurance, perhaps? Some guarantee that this bonkers plan would actually work?

“Taking the cannon offline for a _moment_ was one thing, Lieutenant,” Ursara Nyx finally said, clearly aghast at the very idea. “Taking down the shields was one thing. We had remote override codes. Those  _ wont work  _ to actually take control of the cannon. You’d have to be  _ inside. In  _ the main control room.  _ At the top of the bloody Beast. _

“ _ And  _ the First Order has those same remote override codes.  _ Even  _ if you could somehow get in, the  _ minute  _ they detected a breach, they’d just lock us out. Blocking those overrides — or jamming all communications on the ground — would be a hell of a job.  _ And  _ they will have changed all of their security, so my old access codes are useless, anyway."

Her speech was rapid, but not in panic. Rather, Ursara's words were those of a codebreaker, working out the puzzle aloud.

“And, I mean, how in the name of all that is good and even just remotely — you know — boring but totally acceptable and worth settling down for — how in the name of all of  _ that  _ are you actually going to get me on to the base?”

Nyx’s eyes were frantic. Her hands had balled into fists. But, she was determined. Her question lingered in the air. How would  _she_ get onto the base? __ Kira’s lips twisted into the smallest of smiles.

“If we got you to the base, could  _ you  _ do it, Nyx?” Kira asked.

“Well of bloody course I can do it,” Ursara said, rolling her eyes. “I wrote half of those remote access codes and security overrides myself. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? But, you — you’re serious about this? You — you’re going to — you’re going to turn the Beast against the First Order fleet.”

In an instant, Ursara’s bravado deflated like a popped balloon. The determination faded, replaced by conflict and sorrow. General Taenara stepped out of the shadows, throwing both General Mika and her lieutenant a concerned look. Kira remembered her agent’s early concerns, months ago during recruitment. Nyx had plenty of friends throughout the First Order, including on the ships currently orbiting Ryloth. 

“We have to scare them off,” Kira said gently, holding up a hand toward Mika and Taenara. “This is the fastest way. We get the Beast. We turn the First Order’s weapon of mass destruction against them. We make holding this area too costly. We force them out of this province, if not off this planet. It — it won’t come without death. But there will be far fewer casualties than with years of the warfare you’ve already _seen_ on Ryloth’s surface.”

“I don’t know. Kira-”

Taenara shook her head and sighed. “See, how this First Order _child_ still clings to them? If we can’t trust her, we’ll adapt the plan-”

“We can trust her,” Kira growled, protectively glaring up at Tae. She looked back at Ursara, expression softening. “Urs, tell them. You contacted  _ me.  _ All those months ago. Why?”

Ursara studied Kira’s expression and nodded, swallowing hard. “My father grew up on Mandalore,” she said, looking General Taenara straight in the eyes. “On stories of many heroes who fought for — and, yes, against — the Republic, old and new. He fled when I was a child, during the civil war. But the stories, those he kept. There was one, above all the others, that I made him tell  _ over  _ and  _ over  _ again. Sabine Wren, of House Vizsla.”

Taenara caught Kira’s gaze, eyebrows raised in surprise, but the general held her tongue. Instead, Taenara turned her full attention back to the young spy at the table.

“She was an Imperial cadet. She designed a terrible weapon for the Empire. A weapon that was tested on her own people. On my people. And when she saw what they did, she sabotaged the operation and ran. Joined the rebellion. Became a hero. She returned with the darksaber — a weapon of myth whose importance to my people is indescribable to an outsider. It would be like you lot trying to explain the kalikori to me. And having me  _ truly  _ understand, at any rate.

“Wren used the darksaber to unite many clans and turn them, from the Empire to the Rebels. And then she  _ turned it over.  _ Peacefully turned over the darksaber to Bo-Katan. Again, I can’t even explain how absolutely remarkable, for a Mandalorian to—" Ursara stopped herself, taking a breath. She was getting all worked, telling this Mandalorian folk tale with such passion that it even choked up Kira, just a little bit. "Anyway, she was a hero. Of the Rebellion. Of Mandalore. Twice over. During the last civil war, she protected Clan Wren and House Vizsla with her life. Died for what she believed in. For family and honor and something  _ more. _ "

Kira stared straight ahead at the wall, avoiding the steady gaze of Taenara and the impassioned, dark eyes of Ursara Nyx. For a split second, the lieutenant wondered what she would do, if something happened to Nyx. What would Kira do, if this starry-eyed, brave child of Mandalore — so inspired by Sabine, by a hero close to Kira's own heart — was killed in the battle to come? She was pulled back to reality, and away from that dark question, by Ursara's continued plea.

“I lost sight of that, somewhere along the way. Joined the First Order because I really thought it was the right thing, following in my father’s footsteps, but now — now, I’m  _ trying _ to make up for it. I designed the security protocols that have kept the First Order and its weapons safe and online. Give me the chance to use that against them, Generals,” Ursara pleaded, her dark eyes earnest. “Let me turn my creation against the First Order, like Sabine Wren turned Mandalore against the Empire. It’s — it’s not quite the same. But I’ve got to start somewhere.”

Kira watched the two Twi’lek generals exchange looks with one another, as if they were having a silent conversation. Kira watched the movement of their lekku, and she realized that was _exactly_ what they were doing. Keeping one eye on their debate, she gave Ursara a meaningful nod of approval. The terse silence stretched on. Neither general entirely trusted Nyx, apparently, though Taenara was more sympathetic. And both generals believed Kira had grown too close to her agent. Which, Kira reflected, was probably true. But they both, it turned out, trusted Kira. They trusted her _a lot._ Even Mika. A rather touching and unexpected revelation.

“You have faith in your agent, lieutenant?” General Mika asked, looking down at Kira with a familiar, piercing stare.

Kira nodded resolutely. Ursara would not betray them. She would not fail them.

“And in yourself? In this plan?” Taenara asked. She studied Kira carefully, her eyes holding the concern of a wounded friend. “This all depends on _you_ and the Spectres. You have to buy enough time for my squad to get Officer Nyx into base.”

“The Force is with us, General,” Kira said. For a moment, she actually believed the words. “Have a little hope.”


	5. Passion without Peace

The uneasy stillness of a military base on mournful standby transformed in a heartbeat. With a real plan in place, every soldier was on high alert. Refugees fled in barely orderly panic to the most secure parts of the bunker. Soldiers geared up for the fight, cleaning blasters and preparing munitions. Operations personnel worked tirelessly at their monitors, coordinating every detail.

The plan solid in her mind’s eye — the briefing gone over half a dozen times — Kira meditated cross-legged on the floor. Her cramped quarters — shared with three other lieutenants — were hardly ideal for meditation. There was barely even room, between the bunks and the wall, for her to sit. At least there was a beautiful — and comfortable — rug spread out on the floor, folded over to fit the cramped space. It was a richly colored gift to one of Kira's roommates, a priceless handmade token of gratitude from a rescued refugee. It provided the only color, the only reminder of life before the war. 

And, at least the others were out, busy preparing for the mission at hand. Kira, too, was preparing for what was to come. She tried to center herself, but it proved nearly impossible.

This plan — _her_ plan, at least in part — was reckless in every possible way. It put Ryloth at huge risk, in the long term. If they succeeded, the First Order would not take this slight lightly. _Kylo Ren_ would not take this lightly. But, there would be very little of Ryloth left to care about _without_ an intervention. 

And it put Kira herself at risk. Out in the open. Exposed. Taking on a damn suicide mission. There were few worlds in the galaxy Kira would die for. Ryloth, however, was one of them. Ryloth had suffered enough. She’d known half a century of occupation and warfare, punctuated by only the briefest moments of peace and reconstruction. It was time for the cycle to end. To end in a  _ different  _ way. And, after all Kira owed the Twi'lek, if that took Kira's life, so be it.

So Kira prepared. She drew on old teachings and tried to empty her mind. Tranquility, however, would not come. Instead, her thoughts raced with old nightmares and new fears.

And interruptions. The doors slid open after hours — or perhaps only minutes — of fruitless meditation, and Finn Dameron was standing in the doorway. Kira opened her eyes briefly, arching an eyebrow, before closing them again. She gestured to the colorful woven rug in front of her, offering a seat.

“You’re welcome to join me, but I am  _ technically  _ busy,” Kira scolded.

“Rey says that a lot,” Finn said, sitting opposite the cloaked soldier. It was a rare thing, even in privacy, for Kira to remove her hooded poncho. “Never really seems to mean it.”

Kira opened her eyes again with an annoyed but knowing smile. “So the famed Jedi isn’t so perfect, after all?” she noted. 

“Who are you?” Finn shot back. “You sit here, meditating. They call you a lieutenant, but you’re in good with the generals. You grew up on a New Republic base. Last night, the things you said-”

“I told you, my parents fought for the rebellion. And, well, I’ve spent some time with a former Jedi, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Kira said, holding up a hand to halt his inquiries. “But I am no Jedi, Finn. I know their ways. Their history, philosophy, and teachings. And their failings. But I’m not one of them.”

“Spent time with a former Jedi, but not Luke Skywalker,” Finn observed quizzically. “Who else-”

“The Empire and the First Order did not wipe  _ all _ of the Jedi out. Make no mistake, they were thorough. Brutally and remarkably thorough," she said solemnly. "Any Jedi they could not — that they  _ can  _ not — turn to their side, they kill. Without the Jedi Order to protect force sensitive younglings and the surviving Jedi of old — well, three whole generations of them are almost all  _ gone. _

“Almost,” Kira repeated, a fire burning in her eyes. She kept them locked on Finn’s. “Rey will not be the first or last Jedi to rise against the First Order now, especially with Supreme Leader Snoke out of the picture. It’s said he had an  _ ability _ , to track down those strong with the Force. To find them. To see them through the force. In a way no other Sith could before him. How he never found Rey, well, I can only speculate. There are places in the galaxy — well, there were others who hid. My Jedi friend among them.

“She was a rare survivor, but Rey is not alone. There are others. There are new force sensitive children awakening now. Some will find their way to the Rebels. Others to friends like mine, hiding in shadow. Fighting this war in a different way, in the slums of the Core and the Outer Rim. Still fighting the oppression of the First Order, but on their own terms.”

Kira pulled a necklace from beneath her cloak, a rare kyber crystal wrapped carefully in chain and string. Her fingers traced delicately over the jewel, watching Finn’s eyes follow her every movement. A calculating silence fell between them, each soldier turning the words over in their hearts.

Finn broke the stalemate. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

“I am a daughter of rebellion,” Kira answered, wry smile twisting at her lips. He was persistent, this former stormtrooper. Kira expected nothing less. “Of Rebels whose names are largely lost to history. Who spent her life running and hiding. Staying out of this fight for as long as I could. Doing what everyone does, I suppose. Everyone who knows their parents, anyway. Trying to avoid becoming them. To avoid  _ dying  _ like they did. Dying young and forgotten on ash-laden worlds, leaving behind everything and everyone I love to just  _ more  _ violence. With no end in sight.

“But I can’t run anymore. After the Hosnian system. After what started here on Ryloth. There's a spark that has ignited. A fire. A part of me  _ knows  _ this is a terrible idea. That I should run. That I place myself and everything I love —  _ everyone _ I love — in terrible danger. But they are in far greater danger if I don’t stand and rise up.”

The way Finn looked at her. Kira knew that look. She’d seen it, in the eyes of her mothers. In the eyes of her little brother. In the eyes of Taenara and Nyx. In the eyes the mysterious woman who kept haunting her dreams, night after night. It was the look of a bond forging between one dreamer and another, two freedom fighters swearing an oath.

And it was the look of a man, of a Rebel, who understood. Who understood wanting to run. Wanting nothing more than to get out of the fight, protect his friends, and lie low while the battles raging across the galaxy died down, far away. 

It was the look of a man who had cast that cowardice off completely. And Kira envied him greatly for it.

A soft, warm smile spread across her face, drought-parched lips threatening to crack with the force of it. Finn’s electric smile matched her own. And, for a fleeting moment, there was no cynicism. There was only hope.

It passed. Finn’s smile faded, and he cast his eyes down at the richly woven carpet. “Fine. So you won’t give me a straight answer on who you are,” he observed. “Will you at least tell me the plan? Because it seems like no one on this damn base knows-”

“Hey, I don’t know how you lot run things,” Kira interrupted, stiffening her posture. “But we actually learned from the D’Qar evacuation. Command might've kept things close to the vest on what went wrong there, that’s true. It’s mostly speculation, but I work intelligence, Finn. I know enough about the stunt you, Poe, and Tico pulled.”

“What does that have to do with-”

“ _ Everything, _ ” Kira said sternly. “And thanks for confirming that you three were involved.”

Finn glared at the lieutenant, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The moment of unbridled hope passed, opening a door to knocked down walls and laid bare passion. Kira knew she was walking on mighty thin ice. She wanted Finn on her side for this mission. She wanted Finn on her side for the war to come. He needed to understand.

She sighed, surrendering as her posture relaxed. “Sorry, that was, well, harsh,” she apologized, holding out her hands in a placating manner. “Look,  _ nobody  _ on the base has the full picture of what’s going down tomorrow, except the generals. Even me, and it’s, like, sixty percent my plan. The other forty percent? Totally in the dark. But it has to be that way. This plan hinges on a couple of  _ really  _ top secret assets we would like to keep, even if things go sideways.”

“But I’m-”

“A human interloper, as far as Ryloth is concerned.”

“So, explain how  _ you _ got so involved, then,” Finn demanded.

“Fine," Kira sighed. She would give him that much. "The woman who raised me, after my mother died. She was from Ryloth. She brought me here, when I just a girl. This place — its people — it was a part of me, growing up. And I’ve spent the past  _ year _ proving that to the people here. It took time, Finn. After all that has happened, the Twi'lek don't trust outsiders easily. But, General Taenara, she knew me. And her mom knew my moms. So that helped. 

“I’m not Twi’lek. Never will be. But Ryloth and the Twi’lek will always be part of my family. So they’re a part of me. And  _ most  _ of the people here, they’ve come to understand that.

“I get it, okay. Not knowing what’s going on. Not being involved. You’re Mr. Big Deal, back with Resistance HQ. Down here, though, you’re just an ex-buckethead.”

Finn frowned, pulling at the fibers of the rug. “I want to help,” he insisted. “How do I-”

“I know,” Kira interrupted, putting up a placating hand. “So, tonight, you stick by me. Follow orders. Stay in cover when I tell you. And, when I give the signal, stand at my side, okay?”

“Stand at your side?”

“We’re going to create a distraction. It will be dangerous. Stupid dangerous, even if it is _technically_ within acceptable loss parameters for a mission like this,” Kira admitted. “All my intel says you know how to handle yourself with blaster and in melee combat, right? So, if you’re up for doing something  _ really _ — and I can’t stress this enough — really, incredibly, stupidly risky, stick by me, and I’ll fill you in as we go. But this is your choice. You wanna stay here and help defend the refugees, no one would fault you, Finn. Hell, they'd probably appreciate it.”

Finn studied Kira for a long time, as her own hands fidgeted with the loose threads of the woven rug. His eyes came to rest on her metal hand, nimbly pulling at a beautiful crimson thread, weaving it back in to the pattern as best she could.

“I’m your wingman,” Finn said resolutely, holding out a hand. “On one condition. Afterward, you stop dancing around, and you tell me who you are.”

Kira allowed a small smile. She gave Finn’s outstretched hand a firm shake. “Deal," she agreed.


	6. Passion to Create

On many worlds, the torrential rains that came the night of the assault would be seen as a bad omen. Sheets of water moved across the valley, looking like laundry flying off a forgotten clothesline. Thunder cracked in the distance, lightning occasionally blinding the resistance troops as they moved into position. Visibility was at practically zero, especially in the valley, where the First Order’s large installation was comfortably seated.

The temperate rainforest of the parched Damen Province, however, rejoiced. She sang as the winds howled through her cracked branches, as the rain poured down onto her pine needles. And the forest sheltered her native rebels, providing both cover and better visibility than in the cleared out valley below. The First Order had made a grave mistake in burning down large swaths of the valley’s forest, to quickly clear space for their base.

Kira remembered being caught in a mudslide once, on a now abandoned moon run by the Mining Guild. Its forests, too, had been stripped bare. So there were no roots to hold the soils in place when a once in a generation monsoon swept the continent. It was one of the most terrifying days of her life, being nearly crushed to death under a torrent of water and earth. The death count was astronomical. And vastly underreported by the Guild.

The valley’s bordering hills were hardly steep enough for such a stroke of luck — or misfortune — the night of the assault. But the rebels still had the high ground, as they made it to their marks. As most of the troops settled on the flanks of the valley, hidden in the woods, Kira and Finn pressed forward with a small vanguard, right out into the worst of the storm. The rain lashed at Kira’s face, and she still found herself squinting even with a set of borrowed pilot's goggles. She pulled her hood tighter around her face and pushed forward, keeping low and out of sight of First Order scouts.

Finally, the vanguard came as close as they dared to the base’s entrance, taking cover against a fallen, repurposed resistance AT-ST from the last battle. Kira could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was as if her armor was the only thing keeping the very life within Kira from escaping. For the briefest moment, Finn reached over and squeezed Kira’s hand. For only a second. But, it was enough. She met his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded resolutely.

"We can do this," Kira whispered, her voice inaudible, even to herself, over the howling winds.

Next to them, the vanguard’s commander called clearly and confidently over the comm, “General, Spectre Squad is in position. Ready for phase one.”

The explosions at the far end of the base — flanking the actual Beast — shook the ground like thunder, though the sound could barely be heard above the real storm. The bombs ignited only a momentary glow — an impressionist’s marking of a sunrise, in ground glass  — but the damage was done. 

The commander of the Spectres signaled for the squad to move out, flagging them forward. Kira followed close behind him, with Finn at her heels. With the base thrown into chaos and unable to see their enemy, it was easy to slip right up to front door. It was easy to plant the rest of the explosives, on guard towers and gates and AT-ATs. 

Then the Spectres pulled back, as quietly and unnoticed as they’d arrived. Kira only hoped the other units had similar success. They climbed back behind the old AT-ST, fifty yards from the forward gate. Kira watched the Spectres’ commander pull the detonator out. He gave Kira a look of both approval and apprehension, a prayer that her insane plan would actually work. 

Kira peeked her head up over the walker, unable to resist the instinct, just in time to see the forward entrance transform — a blossoming of warmth against the violent shadows of the night. This time, the metal of the walker shook beneath Kira’s pruning fingers. The muddy earth vibrated up through her bones, resonating in her chest so strongly it felt like she was being torn apart. The storm only  _ slightly  _ muffled the sound, and protective headgear might have been a good idea, in retrospect. But it was  _ beautiful.  _ And it  _ worked _ . There was no semblance of order in the movement of stormtroopers and remaining walkers across the base now. 

“Ready for phase two,” Kira said excitedly over the comm, wide grin plastered across her face. Protocol and rank be damned.

“Just remember this is a battle, not a fireworks display, crazy,” Taenara's yelled back over the comm. She was trying to sound stern, but Tae's laughter failed her rather miserably.

“Cut. The. Chatter,” General Mika groaned. “Spectre, Tol, Yuned: commence phase two. All other squads hold positions.”

Commander Cotan shot an amused glance in Kira’s direction. Admittedly, Kira knew little about him, save that he was General Mika’s grandson. Kira was not sure  _ what  _ that said about the General’s level of trust in her. Maybe he really did have confidence in her plan, all his protests in the war room to the contrary. Or maybe Mika’s grandson was there to keep an eye on the shifty human. Even sabotage her whole operation.

Cotan’s surprised moment of entertainment passed fleetingly. His face turned hard, his copper eyes resolute, as he looked out over the walker. The gateway into the base was clear. They really had a shot. He nodded to Kira — another silent prayer — and flagged his squad forward. Kira motioned for Finn to follow her, and they broke away from the rest of the Spectres, flanking along the east barricade. 

The two teams moved silently through the storm, thunder and lightning still calling out over the battlefield, drowning out practically everything else. Faint blaster fire started to come in to the symphony, as they narrowed their distance to the Beast. Kira and Finn, however, were in the clear, still unnoticed by whatever troops remained by the front gate.

Kira watched red flashes light up across the rain-painted scene on their flank, as the Spectres opened fire on whatever guards remained by the gate. Kira and Finn watched for only a moment, before moving to an unmanned breach in the eastern barricade. With multiple squads opening fire from every side of the base, it was almost too easy to slip through. 

They darted through the field of TIE fighters, planting explosives, even though the rains made that part of the plan a little less essential. Kira doubted General Nara would try scrambling an airstrike in such weather. Still, Kira was sure looking forward to blowing up an entire First Order airfield. She really had always wanted to do that.

The difficult phase of the plan, however, had only just begun. As Kira and Finn ducked behind a downed AT-AT, just close enough to the Beast for the plan to work, Kira noticed that security around the actual skyscraper was  _ far  _ greater than scouts had reported. The automatic turrets, remaining walkers, and elite troopers were tearing Tol and Yuned Squads apart. Practically no one had actually breached the barricades. Those who had lay, motionless, on the field. Every living rebel remained sheltered in the woods, firing fiercely from cover. But they had not taken out nearly enough of the First Order's defenses. 

Kira swallowed hard. There was no way their plan would have worked, without the storm. And it was still dangerously close to going horribly wrong. But there was no turning back.

“Phantom is in position,” Kira called over the comm, yelling over the blaster fire. This close to the heart of the fighting, the rain and wind no longer drowned out the cacophony of war. “And charges are primed.”

“I’ve got too many people on that airfield! We were pushed in to the base. They outmaneuvered us!” Cotan called over the comm, desperation in his voice. “Abort end phase two. Repeat, abort end phase two!”

Kira could hear heavy blaster and cannon fire over Cotan’s comm line. She gripped the detonator in her hand, teeth clenched. Her finger hesitated over the button. The distraction — an airfield in flames — was their only real chance at getting Nyx into the Beast’s control room. It was too heavily guarded for a full frontal assault.

“Damn it!” she shouted, looking over at a very concerned Finn. She took her finger off the button, disarming the detonator in dismay. Kira screwed her face up, in anger and fear. “Tae,” Kira begged, looking sorrowfully across the battlefield. “We’re out of options! You have to let me do this!”

There was only silence over the comm, punctuated by the nearby screams and shouts and blaster fire. Finn turned to Kira, tightly gripping his rifle, with an angered expression.

“Are you going to let me in on the secret now?” he demanded.

Kira looked at him desperately, just as Tae's voice came in over her private channel. Tae pleaded, her voice quiet. Wherever Tann Squad was camped, they were at least hidden and out of the line of fire. Kira breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t make me regret this, my  _ ayy, _ ” Taenara begged. Then, her voice went wide to the entire army, carrying the authority of a general once more. “You’re patched in, Phantom. Commence Spectre Phase. All other units, hold positions.”

Kira looked at Finn, with both apprehension and hope. She handed the detonator to him, and he took it with only a moment’s hesitation. Kira put her one real hand on his cheek, smiling warmly. If Poe trusted this ex-buckethead, then so would she.

“Everyone’s about to be let in on the secret, buddy.”

She tore off her poncho and goggles, letting the rain soak her closely cropped raven hair. Water poured down her face, over and beneath her armor. Her centuries old Mandalorian armor, intricately emblazoned with rich pinks, oranges, and golds, a rising phoenix painted over her heart. And, at her hip, two concealed weapons. Two weapons hidden carefully in a lacquered box for many months, now seeing a real battlefield for the first time.

A pang of sadness hit Kira, a stabbing tear straight through her heart. She had hoped never to use them. Not like this.

Finn looked at Kira with shock and confusion, but she only returned the same warm smile. She took a deep inhale, feeling the storm against her skin, and stepped calmly out from behind the walker. It took a moment, for the unit guarding the entrance to the Beast’s control center to see her through the water. She kept stepping toward them, slowly and calmly, keeping her weapons stowed. Until finally, the firing slowed.

A single rocket fired in Kira’s direction, an instinctive shot toward a new enemy. Kira felt it, like a hyperdrive charging up. She turned to the side, leaning out of the way, and let the missile sail over her shoulder. It exploded somewhere behind her, the sound rather distant and unimportant.

Everyone stopped firing, then. Kira’s eyes fixed on General Nara, a slight figure wearing modified Imperial death trooper armor. Kira knew full well that the First Order general’s short stature was not cause to be underestimated. The woman had a nasty reputation. General Nara held up a fist, calling for her troops to hold their fire. She looked out at the lone Mandalorian, intense curiosity radiating off of her, and took two steps forward.

Kira took hold of her weapons, grasping them firmly but calmly in her palms. They were an extension of herself. Not just of her limbs, but of her soul. Of the Force. She could not deny it. It felt good to have them in hand again.

A serene smile lit across her face, as two white lightsabers ignited with flourish. 


	7. Peace to Guide

Kira stood, boots rooted into the concrete, wind and rain lashing at her armor and unshielded face. She barely noticed the storm, now. Instead, all she could feel were the two weapons of myth ignited in her hands, held calmly and confidently with a familiar reverse grip.

Every eye turned to her. As they did, Kira felt the entire sector of the battlefield grow still, a hundred fingers waiting a hair’s breadth from their triggers. 

Sixteen years. For sixteen years, Kira had done everything in her power to run and hide and be absolutely sure this day would never come. Some things — some people — really were worth losing  _ everything _ for.

So, as Kira began to speak, she prayed Taenara was right. She prayed she was patched in. She prayed that her voice went wide to the Ryloth and First Order communications channels alike. And she drew on the voices of her mothers and her father, of lectures and speeches heard both in person and only in half-remembered dreams.

“General Nara, the Resistance will give you one opportunity to surrender,” she shouted into the storm. “To be given a fair trial, instead of whatever awaits you at the hands of the First Order, when you fail today and run back, tail between your legs. When you lose Ryloth to a band of ragtag rebels. 

“And that offer goes to all of you, to every stormtrooper and officer and cadet who have seen with their own eyes the absolute destruction of this world in the name of  _ order.  _ The massacre of civilians and the incineration of entire continents. In the name of bringing _peace_ and stability to the galaxy.”

Disgust and bitterness dripped off her every word. Kira felt her lightsabers resonate violently in her hands, the kyber crystals within responding to her despair. She took a deep breath, and she rolled back her shoulders. 

Somewhere, ahead in the rain, she could sense the movement of the Taenara and Tann Squad, quietly taking advantage of the distraction. The force moved through Kira, every neuron firing like the lightning above. It awakened, as unexpectedly and suddenly as the storm.

“You can do better! You can follow the example of rebels who came before you. Of Antilles and Kallus and Wren and Mandalore. Of FN-2817. Of Finn Dameron. Of Ace Mandax. Of  _ Mandy.  _ Of your  _ friend!  _ You are  _ better  _ than this! You are not blind, and you are not cowards. You have a choice, just like they did. The First Order would cleary  _ never  _ give such an offer to its enemies, but  _ we  _ are offering you a chance, tonight-"

Kira never heard the command to start firing again, but the sheets of water dancing across the still battlefield suddenly lit up with bursts of vibrant red. All of it aimed at her. All day, she prayed her skills would return effortlessly, like jumping back on a speeder. Fortunately, that was mostly true. She deflected the blaster fire well enough, though her accuracy in returning fire was pretty abysmal. Her world was a blaze of light and water, flashes of red and white, moving as one with the force.

Downfield, she saw more flashes of red as Tol and Yuned squads resumed fire from the left and right flanks. They drew some fire from Kira, allowing her to backup a few paces, keeping level with the downed AT-AT in case she needed cover. Finn was still there, firing at those stormtroopers taking shots at Kira. Even as she tried to focus on drawing the blaster fire, however, Kira kept her eyes warily on the walkers. They were firing heavily right at Tol and Yuned squads, and Kira was just trying not to think of the casualties.

She was surprised — enough for a single blaster shot to get by, grazing painfully along her arm — by rocket fire from the right flank. Some skilled bastard from Yuned perfectly aimed at the neck, taking down one walker and slamming it into another, bringing them both down in a single glorious crash that echoed through the entire base. Over the howling wind, Kira heard Finn give out a gleeful whoop. Four walkers, however, remained. And, slowly, two of them began to turn toward Kira.

“Cotan! Tell me you’ve cleared that damn field!” Kira yelled desperately into her comm. 

“Maybe have a little more situational awareness, lieutenant!” a familiar voice shouted back. “To your right!”

Kira looked over to see that the remainder of the Spectres — most of them still alive — had joined Finn. They fired their powerful blaster repeaters from behind the downed walker with fantastic accuracy. Cotan winked rather cheekily at Kira, before returning back to the task at hand. Kira’s eyes, for the briefest moment, caught Finn’s in the chaos. He held up the detonator with a resolute nod. And Kira could not help the wide, manic grin that spread across her face.

The explosion behind them nearly knocked Kira off of her feet, as an entire fleet of TIE fighters were shattered in a sight better than any fireworks display. Kira stumbled forward, bare hand scraping against slick pavement, fortunate that the explosion stunned nearly everyone else on the battlefield, too. If her little  _ hey look at the Jedi  _ display wasn’t enough, Kira was willing to bet  _ that  _ got Taenara and Nyx into the Beast’s tower with minimal resistance. And, indeed, she felt it. The pneumatic hum of a heavy door closing behind Tann Squad.

Kira regained her composure and stood against the Beast once more. Even with Tae and Nyx  inside, they still needed  _ time.  _ Time bought with life and blood and a lot of bad decisions. Kira took one lightsaber and thrust it forward, remembering those old New Republic propaganda posters with Luke Skywalker in ridiculous poses. She remembered her mother Hera’s amusement, discovering one affixed to the wall of a teenage Kira's room.

Now, mustering up the heart and soul of every Jedi story told at her bedside, Kira shouted over her shoulder to the Spectres, “On me!”

They would get one shot. Kira charged, boots pounding across the concrete. Every step sent vibrations shuddering up her legs, right up into her chest, already painfully heaving with exhaustion. Kira was starting to tear apart at the seams, but she had to keep moving forward. One foot, and then another. The stormtroopers began to wake back up as she neared the front line, the blinding orange-white of the explosion fading from their vision. A few shots were fired off and deflected. But she payed them little heed.

Kira went straight for the AT-ATs, praying that all those tales from the Clone Wars and the Rebellion were more than just fanciful stories. That a lightsaber really  _ could  _ cut through that much metal, with just a few swift strikes of the blade. She charged between them and launched herself at the leg of one of the walkers, aiming her blade in three deep, swift strokes at the weakest part of the joint. She pushed forward to the next leg and did the same, never stopping until she was clear. 

Kira skidded to a halt on the wet pavement, looking desperately up at her attempt. The legs of the AT-AT were marked with molten streaks of orange. And, sure enough, the legs of the walker’s left side buckled beneath it. It creaked and groaned and toppled perilously, before collapsing, right into the other AT-AT trying to steer too slowly out of its way. Both went down with a thunderous crash, so bone shattering it actually knocked Kira to the ground. She was thrown back toward the Beast, dazed among the sound of renewing blaster and cannon fire. 

It was Finn that blocked a vibroblade blow meant for her, just as cannon fire from Tol squad knocked another AT-AT out of the battle. Her ears were still ringing, muscles aching, bones screaming at her to stay down. Finn, however, was struggling. Pushing against the stormtrooper’s blade with his own, with every inch of his might.

“A little help here!”

Kira’s lightsabers ignited again. “Down!” she shouted, charging forward. Finn followed her lead, ducking just as she went high. She dodged the stormtrooper’s strike and cut into his shoulders and neck with both blades, never looking back to examine the carnage.

Finn was immediately back up at her side again, blaster out and firing. Kira deflected blaster bolts back at the troopers on their flank, backing toward the entrance to the Beast. The last AT-AT crashed down in the distance, and Kira realized that the stormtroopers ranks were diminishing rapidly.  _ They were running.  _ Up the hills. Through the rubble-strewn holes blasted in the barricades. They were running, hands up,  _ surrendering  _ to Tol and Yuned squads on their flanks.

There was one missing piece on the field, however, that left Kira deeply troubled. 

“Did you see General Nara?” Kira shouted over to Finn.

Cotan ran up next to them, taking out a trio of holdouts camped behind one of the nearby crashed walkers with an almost casual flourish of his rifle. 

“She ran inside, right after you did, well, that Jedi thing!” Cotan called out.

“Which one, the  _ surrender and I’ll let you live _ thing?” Finn chimed in, firing off a shot that just narrowly missed a stormtrooper who dived back into cover. “Or the  _ crazy jumping human laser cannon _ thing _? _ ”

“The second one!” Cotan called out, flashing a wide grin.

“If you two are done, I need to get in that tower! If Nara’s inside, then Tann Squad’s gonna need backup!” Kira shouted, annoyed. 

A renewed barrage of blaster fire came in from the east, and Kira jumped in front of both troublesome men to deflect it. She missed a few shots. Fortunately, none hit Finn or Cotan. One did, however, graze her thigh pretty badly. It cut through her armor, stinging and burning down the middle of her quad. Her leg threatened to buckle beneath her, just for a second, as she clenched her teeth.

Kira hissed over the comm, “Tann Squad, come in! Report your status! Taenara? Nyx? Anyone?”

Silence. Cold and unforgiving silence.

Kira could still feel them. They  _were_ alive. And they were in danger. But pain and exhaustion were clouding her connection. She could see no more.

Cotan’s lips pressed into a tight line, and he shook his head resolutely at Kira. “Don’t even think about it, lieutenant. We need you out here! Tann are  _ under orders  _ to cut comms. I know Nara’s a piece of work, but-”

“No, she’s right,” Finn said. “Nara’s not just a brilliant tactician, she’s-”

“Mandalorian,” Kira cut him off. “And if she goes in there guns blazing, not even Tae can hold her off. Not for long. We need that cannon, Cotan! It’s the only way to hold Ryloth! It's the only reason we're here! Otherwise nothing here on the ground — all of this — it’s all for—”

“Alright, I get it! My men will get you there. Just don’t make me regret this, lieutenant,” Cotan growled.

The commander and Kira locked eyes. How much more of his friends blood — his brothers’ and sisters’ blood — would be spilt on this last ditch effort to save his home?

“A little further,” she promised. “For Ryloth.”

“Spectres, covering fire on the Jedi, now!” Cotan ordered over the comm.

Renewed blaster fire came in from both directions, decimating the remaining clusters of stormtroopers hanging onto the tower entrance. Kira would have to apologize, later, for ever doubting the young commander. His squad was as fierce, dedicated, and disciplined as he was. Their renewed cover fire — brought on at significant risk, each Spectre boldly drawing fire from positions atop AT-ATs or just out in the middle of open stretches of the battlefield — was more than enough to give Kira and Finn a good opening.

They slipped through the pocket and into the belly of the beast, the blast doors shutting behind them. For a moment, all Kira heard was the loud ringing in her ears. The chorus of battle and the downpour outside was deafened, and the silence within rang like echoes across the surface of a dead world. It was worse when the ringing stopped, and all she could hear was the death — the empty silence left by the dead bodies left in the corridor. 


	8. Power Blinds

Standing there, in the corridor, Kira found herself awash in disbelief. The Beast. They actually made it.

Disbelief turned to anger and grief. Corpses littered the entryway. Stormtroopers and officers and cadets lay still. They were just children. Children whose brief stories were written for them. And then there were the Twi'lek. Fallen members of Taenara's squad. Kira knelt for a moment — a moment she knew they likely could not afford — and quietly prayed.

" _Vahs ka Ryma’at,_ " Kira whispered. "May She guide you back to Her. All of you."

Kira stood and wiped sweat and rain and blood from her brow. A great cut had formed across her forehead, at some point. The consequence of debris from one explosion or another. She had not even felt the wound. Finn took notice, however, his own brow furrowed. He quickly unwound a borrowed deep blue scarf from around his neck.

“That looks bad. Use this,” he insisted, pressing it gently against her forehead. She nodded in thanks, leaving Finn to look around with the trained eyes of a sentry. Of a man who’d spent a lifetime running. “Do you know which way we’re going?”

“Should be a lift, down that hall,” Kira said, nodding in the right direction.

Finn started walking, casting an uncertain glance back in Kira’s direction. He posed a pressing question, “So we get up to the control room. We find General Taenara. Probably General Nara, with her. Then what?”

“Then, if Nara’s still alive, we take her down. One way or another,” Kira said matter-of-factly, adjusting her hold on the scarf.

Kira still hoped to stop Nara, somehow, without it coming to more bloodshed. Their chances, however, looked slim. And, if she was being honest, Kira had little desire to offer mercy to a woman so responsible for all the carnage around them.

Kira stepped over a stormtrooper body, looking around with narrowed eyes. She was in all the briefings. She knew the layout details Nyx provided. She knew the different routes Tann Squad was supposed to take. It was a little disorienting, however, trying to figure it all out in person. It was a little different, bleeding from a head wound, stepping over corpses every thirty seconds.

A long silence stretched on before Finn dared to ask, “And if Nyx is dead? If no one can get us control of the cannon?”

Kira swallowed hard. Taenara and Nyx were alive. They had to be. But Kira's connection to the force was faltering with every second, and she was not so sure anymore. 

“I saw a lot of defectors running toward the woods.  _ Someone  _ has to know how to run this thing. Someone will trade their life. The lives of their friends,” she said. Her voice cracked, raw with exhaustion and emotion. Every part of her felt hollow at the thought. “Here, the lift. Get in.”

Finn stepped in after Kira, studying her intensely. “Just like that?” he asked. “You just trade one defector for another?”

“ _ Of course not, _ ” Kira hissed.

Kira rounded on him, but she stopped herself short. The lieutenant instead held one hand up, in placation and exhaustion. They needed to keep moving. She shut the lift door, used her copied code cylinder, and entered the access code for the control room. There was only the smallest bit of relief as the lift smoothly hummed to life beneath their feet.

She finally exhaled, and continued, “I meant what I said, before. About how we fight. About how we win. We will  _ not  _ become just like the First Order. We. Will. Not. But I can’t afford — I can’t  _ survive  _ thinking about what we’ve lost right now. About what  _ I _ might have lost. Right now we just have to press on. Focus on the problems at hand. So can we please stop-”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” Finn said, relaxing a bit. “I just, if Nara’s really here — If she ambushed Tann — I’ve heard of her. Even back before she was a general, we all knew about her. Not much, but we knew she was, well, _scary_. We kept clear of her. Kira, you were impressive out there, but-”

“If there’s anyone who can take her on, it’s me,” Kira said. “If nothing else, I can distract her.”

“What is it with you and distractions?”

“Just listen, okay? You wanted to know the plan, right?” Kira snapped, raising an eyebrow. Finn shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Look, Nara’s not her real name, okay? We — well, we’ve never met. But, we have history.”

“Before,” Finn said, realization dawning in his eyes, “you said she’s Mandalorian. Your armor-”

“We’re out of time,” Kira interrupted, watching the screen on the lift. "You'll see."

She lit her lightsabers, and Finn readied his blaster in response. They both waited only a moment, not knowing what might be on the other side of the doors about to slide open. Kira reached out with the force, trying to sense any signs of life. Or hostility. Still, everything was just noise, like static over a comm. Even Finn was unclear, his pre-battle anxiety and untrusting questions about Kira only an out of focus image.

The doors to the control room opened, only the slightest pneumatic _whoosh_ attempting to break the tension. For a moment, the room was so still that Kira believed the control room to be empty. Then, she saw the bodies on the floor. Stormtroopers, mostly. Here, however, there were far more fallen Twi-lek than downstairs. And, at the back of the low-lit room, clustered around a very important-looking console, were the survivors of the final battle.

Kira felt waves of both dizzying relief and nauseating anxiety at the sight. Ursara Nyx stood at the console, hands up. She still held a blaster in one hand, and a data spike in another. At her side was Tae, blaster rifle at the ready, focus never truly leaving her target even as the lift doors opened almost silently behind the enemy squad. A handful of resistance fighters from Tann still survived, ready to fight. And, to her surprise, a couple of young, disarmed First Order officers took shelter  _ behind  _ the Twi-lek fighters.

Tae and her squad, however, were outnumbered. And even from behind, General Nara cut an impressive figure. Flanked by her elite troops, wearing polished black armor and a rather dramatic burgundy cape, she stood with haughty pride. At this distance, her short stature was hardly something any intelligent foe would underestimate. If anything, Nara’s height gave off waves of feral energy. She was small and strong and utterly merciless, ready to destroy  _ everyone  _ in her way.

And Kira knew  _ exactly  _ how to turn that against her.

“Orane Saxon,” she called out from the lift, stepping into the room.

Some of the stormtroopers immediately turned in surprise, blasters at the ready. The general, however, turned slowly. Dramatically. Kira could almost  _ feel  _ Tae’s finger twitching over the trigger across the room, ready to shoot the general in the back, no matter the cost. It wasn't the force. It was just knowing Vayel Taenara very, very well. Kira gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, hoping Tae would get the message.  _ Wait for it.  _

The general had removed her helmet, revealing the pale skin, cropped white-blond hair, and icy blue eyes Kira was expecting. Had she really been so close to victory over Tae, to feel so comfortable? Or was the young Mandalorian cast-off really so arrogant?

“Well, at least some of my intelligence panned out,” Kira said coldly. “Can’t say it’s really a pleasure to meet you in person, Orane.”

“Who are you, Jedi?” the general growled, narrowing her eyes.

Kira’s grip on her lightsabers tightened. “I’m no Jedi,” she responded proudly. “And you and I have more in common than you know.”

“You’re really going to try and  _ turn  _ me?” the general laughed, her voice harsh and cruel. “You’re really going to try this sh-”

“I’m not going to try and turn you, Saxon. I’m just going to make you remember who you  _ are, _ ” Kira insisted, voice cracking with emotion. 

Enough stormtroopers turned their attention to the exchange, now. Out of the corner of her eye, Kira watched Nyx, unguarded, load the data spike into the console. Kira concentrated, remembering all of her training, doing her best to stay focused only on the general. Doing her best to keep everyone  _ else _ focused on the general.

“The Empire already took  _ everything  _ from you once-”

“The Empire! The Empire?” The general was incensed at the very suggestion. “The Empire  _ gave  _ all of Mandalore to _my_ family. My grandfather was the best leader Mandalore knew in generations, a true successor to the Mandalores of legend. And the rebellion  _ destroyed- _ ”

“No!” Kira cut her opponent off, voice a menacing, hoarse shout. “The rebellion didn’t destroy your clan! Gar Saxon’s ambition and malice and cruelty destroyed Clan Saxon! The Empire’s use and abuse destroyed Clan Saxon! Destroyed all of  _ Mandalore,  _ Orane! And if you have to blame  _ anyone  _ — any one faction, any one group of people for  _ destroying  _ your family — then blame the ones that were actually there that day. The day Gar Saxon turned on them. The day _my clan_ killed him.”

Orane Saxon’s eyes widened, in shock and recognition. Her eyes scanned Kira’s armor, lingering over the details. The stylized phoenix rebellion medallion over her heart. The lothcat and convor on her shoulders. The splashes of pink and gold that shone like brilliant flame against the black and red and white of the Beast’s interior.

“You,” she gasped. And then, again, with ice and fury, “ _ Wren. _ Your family took  _ everything  _ from me.”

“No,” Kira responded. That one word was calm. Sorrowful. The rest, however, were anything but. “Your grandfather tried to kill my parents. And my grandmother  _ killed  _ your grandfather, that part is true. She spread word of his atrocities against Mandalore. Shamed your clan. Threw our people into generations of chaos that still echo across the galaxy. That reached all the way to bloody Ryloth.” 

Her voice was quick and hoarse and  _ raging _ . Raging with the fire of a wounded people. With the storms of generations of war. The lightsabers shuddered under her grasp.

“But it was the  _ Empire,  _ Orane. They  _ used  _ your grandfather’s ambition. Just like they used my mother’s brilliance, when she was just a fucking child. They manipulated her into creating a weapon that subjugated and destroyed  _ our  _ people.

“And the First Order? They arose from  _ that.  _ From the shattered heart and soul of a monster that destroyed Mandalore. I’m an orphan and refugee of the civil war, same as you. My clan was decimated, same as yours. The Empire was behind it all. And the Republic? They did  _ nothing. _ ”

Shock registered across Orane’s face. Kira could feel it, rippling across the room, angry echoes in the clouded water. Finn stiffened next to her, uncertain. Taenara and Kira locked eyes, for only a moment, and the Twi’lek general gave her friend a resolute, if solemn, nod.

“I’m not asking you to join the Rebels, Orane. I would never ask that. But the First Order? They will use you and discard you or destroy you, just like they did Gar Saxon. I don’t  _ want  _ that. Not for you. Not for  _ any of us.  _ Just help me  _ end  _ them,” Kira pleaded.

She felt a great pain in her chest, as if her heart was being torn apart and crushed at the same time. She meant every word, even as the data spike loaded into the console. Even as Tae was counting targets, slowly moving into a better position, signaling her troops with the silent language of her lekku. The Empire and this bastard child of theirs, this First Order, they had done enough damage to Mandalore and her orphan daughters. Kira Wren had spent so much time running from Mandalore — from everything they stood for, from their training and philosophy and  _ pain _ — but maybe she would actually heal one of those wounds. Just this once.

Orane Saxon dropped her blaster rifle to the ground. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe the two of us are alike. Perhaps, in another life, we would have trained together on Mandalore. Fought together. Been friends,” the general said. Her pale blue eyes were filled with sorrow, but also a steely resolution. “But that is not the galaxy we live in. The First Order can not be ended. This is not the age of our parents and grandparents. And I am a general in one of the greatest military regimes ever to rule this galaxy. I have surpassed my grandfather and his meager aspirations in every way. I have no intention of betraying the First Order. No intention of ending it. But today, I think, I will end you,  _ Wren. _ ”

She pulled a weapon from her side holster, and Kira’s jaw dropped open with recognition. Orane Saxon ignited the saber, and a black, flat blade of energy poured forth from the hilt. The darksaber. The weapon that killed Duchess Satine, one time ruler of all Mandalore. The weapon that Kira’s own mother recovered, once, from the clutches of Darth Maul. A thousand year old lightsaber, forged by a Mandalorian Jedi.

“ _ Thief, _ ” Kira hissed, getting into ready position. “That does not belong to you.”

“Then come take it,  _ murderer, _ ” Orane growled.

The two launched at each other in tandem, their lightsabers clashing with sparks of electric energy that forced both Mandalorians back. There was a single still moment, a second of hesitation. This fight would not end with surrender. And in that moment, they both understood.

And they resumed the duel. Their lightsabers flashed and clashed with speed and fury, with a dance that flowed like fire across a burning forest. All instinct and power, yet with speed and grace. For a long while, all Kira saw and heard was her opponent and their blades. The telltale song of lightsabers singing through the air, coming together in violent crescendos over and over again.

Then blaster fire joined the chorus. Kira had no way to know who opened fire first, though she would put good credits on Finn or Tae. She tried her best not to worry about them. Fighting Saxon was taking all of her strength and concentration. Kira’s blaster wounds were starting to slow her down. 

And Orane’s clan had trained her well. Clan Saxon may have been outlandishly ambitious and cruel, but they knew how to fight. It seemed the young general had learned a few useful tricks from the First Order’s arsenal, as well.

Kira, however, was a daughter of the Rebellion. Of Clan Wren. Of House Viszla. Of Mandalore. Of Lothal. Of Ryloth. And of the Jedi. Of Jedi both cast out and forgotten. 

And they taught her better.

Kira got in the first true strike, slicing deep into Saxon’s dominant arm. Orane never cried out, she only parried the next strike, tightly gripping the darksaber with her one free hand. Her other arm hung limp, useless at her side.

“Murderer!” she cried out again, charging forward. 

Kira dodged her blow, but only barely. Orane came at her, with such fury and determination, that Kira found herself quickly backed into a corner of the room.

“Murderer,” Saxon repeated, voice low. “I  _ know  _ what you did. I was  _ there. _ ”

Kira’s eyes narrowed, her grip on her lightsabers tightening. “Then you know why I did it,” Kira growled, throwing her sabers up to intercept a blow. 

The two locked in position, as Orane tried to break through Kira’s form with sheer strength.  Kira held her there, white sabers crossed against the black, immaterial might of the darksaber. She cried out, in physical pain, as every muscle and bone threatened to buckle under the strain. 

The general, however, was also showing signs of fatigue. Sweat poured down her brow, as Kira tasted the salt of her own blood, pouring from her still-open head wound. Orane’s one good arm was threatening to cave, as Kira’s own biceps trembled.

“You know why I killed her,” Kira repeated. “And you would have done  _ exactly  _ the same, Saxon. It had to be done. For Mandalore. For  _ all of us. _ ”

The response took Orane aback, if only for a moment. Enough for Kira to break away. To dodge the strike. To duck and roll, regaining her footing.

“Fascinating,” Saxon mused, twirling the darksaber in her hand. “Maybe even true. But I’m not Sabine Wren’s daughter. I’m not the traitor here.”

In an instant, the blaster fire died away. In an instant, Kira was back on Mandalore, staring down at her first kill. Knowing that she could never go back to her homeland. And then, all that existed was Orane Saxon. All that existed was a First Order general — a butcher of thousands, if not  _ hundreds of thousands  _ — wielding her stolen weapon. 

_ There is passion, yet peace.  _

“You should not have said that,” Kira warned mournfully. “You should not have said that.”

It happened so quickly, Kira never  _ truly  _ heard Finn or Tae’s protests. She never realized that the fight was over. That the blaster fire had truly ended — not just in her head — but on the field. She only saw the uncompromising general. The author of Ryloth’s would-be destruction. The woman given  _ two  _ chances at surrender. Wielding, of all the weapons, the darksaber.

And Kira  _ launched  _ at her. Like Kira launched at the walkers, a hundred stories below. Like she launched at her mother’s murderers, all those years ago. With fire and fury and unforgiving blood-thirst. With hunger and darkness.

And Kira Bridger Wren cut Orane Saxon down before the general even had time to raise the darksaber in her defense. She cut her down without mercy. She cut her down without one final opportunity for surrender. 

She cut her into pieces, and she never looked back.

In the aftermath, there was almost total silence. The only sound, save her labored breathing, was the subtle song of Kira’s lightsabers.

Otherwise, she was alone. Standing in the chamber, staring at her shell shocked friends. Ursara Nyx lowered her blaster immediately, eyes fixated in horror on the mangled body of the once great General Nara. Finn Dameron looked Kira straight in the eyes, reassessing his every assumption. 

And Vayel. Vayel Taenara. 

Tae just looked at Kira with complete and total understanding. With acceptance. And that was the hardest of all. 

No one else even registered, really, to Kira. There were Twi'lek fighters and stormtrooper prisoners. There were those willing to surrender and those taken by force. There were many, many bodies on the floor.

They were all a blur. A painting. Unreal, and unmoving.

“The cannon. The comm. Nyx?” Kira gasped.

She clutched at her side. Somewhere, in all of that, Orane had gotten one good hit in. Kira could feel the hot liquid flowing, unrelenting, between her fingers now.

Ursara’s eyes somehow got even wider at the sight, but she held her focus. “First Order comms are still jammed, and I’ve broken their communications block on us. We should be able to reach the fleet. And we — we have the Beast, lieutenant,” she reported.

Ursara’s voice wavered. But her shining, dark eyes were triumphant, even in their fear.

“General?” Kira gasped, pulling at her side.

Perhaps she could just buy more time, if she forced every inch of life back into her body. Enough time to see this through.

“This is General Vayel Taenara, calling the Rebel fleet. Does anyone read me?” Tae called out into the darkness.

Tae kept a wary eye on Kira. A tear spilled out, unbidden, down the Twi’lek general’s scarred blue cheek, as they waited in the terse silence.

“General Taenara? Can’t say I was expecting a call from you any time soon.”

Tae’s eyes lit up, and Kira knew her own elated expression was only a shadowed mirror. Admiral Ori’s surprised voice was, to say the least, a welcome respite from the last hour of battle.

Finn was right, after all. The Resistance fleet never left Ryloth behind. They were in range, hiding elsewhere in the system. The battle was not over. And the battle would be won.   
“Admiral, tell me you’re ready for a fight,” Tae said, moving next to Nyx, her hand still never moving from her rifle. “Because we’ve got a  _ really  _ big gun pointed at the First Order fleet.”


	9. The Force is All Things

“Fire.”

Finn grabbed hold of Kira from behind, just as she swayed. Just as she went down, clutching at her side, blood spilling out between her clenched fingers. He grabbed her, lowering her swiftly but gently to the ground, as Nyx pressed the final button that would change  _ everything. _

The final button that would fire the Beast upon the unwitting First Order fleet above Ryloth. The final button that would set in motion a cascade of events far greater than the freedom of one world.

From so high up within the pointed tower of the Beast, its cannon easily reminded every living being left inside of its raw power. Its vibrations rumbled through every hall and chamber, an all-consuming thunder more terrifying than any storm. Finn grabbed tighter onto Kira, one arm securing around her shoulders and sternum, the other wrapped about her waist. He pressed his forehead against the back of her skull, breathing heavily in tandem with her own labored, pained, sharped inhales. 

“Just hold on,” Finn pleaded, as Taenara ran over. She stumbled a bit, adjusting to the tremors, but was undeterred. “We’ve got you.”

“General, you should-”

“Do I look like an admiral to you?” Taenara cut Kira off roughly, rummaging through her bag for a medkit. “I’ve never flown a ship in my life. My fight is  _ here _ now, my  _ ayy.  _ _My star._ My battle only ends when I’ve kept my people alive.”

Finn repositioned Kira, laying her gently on the floor. The thunder stopped, just as frighteningly and suddenly as it started. It was done. The first shot was fired. By Officer Ursara Nyx, no less. And the silence left in the wake of that reality, as the weapon recharged — as _everyone_ recharged — was just as violently loud as the Beast itself.

Kira turned her head, looking straight at the helmeted corpse of a stormtrooper. She wondered, briefly, about the face under the mask. About the life of the child soldier, hidden and gone. About the story untold and lost.

“Fuck!”

A sudden shot of pressure on Kira's wound sent waves of pain rocketing through her body. Kira grabbed at Taenara’s arm, but Tae only yelled at Finn to hold the lieutenant down. Kira shouted out, fighting instinctively against both of them as Tae did  _something_ particularly painful on her leg. Then, something hit her. A jolt of cold and sweetness, firing through her system. The analgesic  _someone_ administered took its damn time.

Kira’s memories became foggy, after that. There was yelling about an exit wound. There were occasional reports about the battle waging over the skies of Ryloth, of TIEs and X-wings and downed star destroyers. There was the constant oscillation — moments of pressure, of being caught in the eye of the storm as the Beast fired once more — followed by the terse stillness as it recharged.

Ursara remained at the console, issuing commands to members of Tann Squad. Kira remembered brief surges of pride, watching her lead under such pressure. She recalled their discussion in the interrogation room — remembered the personal cost Nyx paid every time the Beast fired on the First Order fleet — and Kira's pride turned to immeasurable sorrow. She could feel the tears spilling down her cheeks, unbidden but perfectly reasonable, all things considered.

Someone slapped Kira across the face, and she looked up into the violet, gold-specked eyes of Vayel Taenara. She had the most beautiful eyes. Kira once saw a nebula that color, traveling through the outer rim. Violet and gold. Almost the exact color of Kira’s armor, truth be told.

“Stay with me, my love,” Vayel insisted, grabbing Kira by the shoulders. It  _ hurt _ . Everything hurt, but Kira could not muster the energy to protest. “Stay with me. You’re not done here.”

Vayel placed one hand, gently, across the rising phoenix emblazoned over Kira’s heart. Kira grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers, and stayed there a moment. Vayel was crying now, in earnest. Not because Kira would die. Or, at least, she did not think so. No, these tears were because Kira Wren would  _ live _ . 

She would live, but  _ here  _ did not mean Ryloth. That Phoenix was the heart of something more, just as Kira’s heart had to be, now.

The moment those lightsabers ignited, Kira Bridger Wren stopped running. And, now, she would fly to places Tae could never follow.

At least Kira was no longer a lieutenant. Fuck the chain of command.

She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly along Taenara’s scarred and tear-stained blue cheek, and she touched their foreheads lightly together. Kira’s prominent nose brushed against Tae’s slight, adorable button of one. And, for the first time in a long while, Kira smiled.  _ Really  _ smiled. A genuine, happy, _free_ smile.

And she kissed that beautiful woman. The woman she wanted to kiss for almost a year. Kira kissed her with inexperience but passion. With pain and desperation, but with hope and longing. With a smile on her lips, the whole time.

“Wow,” Tae said, pulling back. She bit at her lip, eyebrow raised as she studied Kira in shock and amusement. “Now you really can’t die, you know. I mean — that was really quite terrible. Wonderful, in it’s way, obviously, but — your technique — you’re going to need lessons. Lots and lots of lessons. From me, obviously. Preferably.” 

Kira started to giggle, and then her laughter shook her to her core. “Ow! No, don’t — laughing hurts too much. Don’t do that,” she protested, wide grin on her face.

Tae leaned in, giving Kira a quick peck on the lips. She pulled back, flashing Kira a mischievous grin. “Ah, I think you’re going to be fine, my  _ ayy, _ ” she said confidently, standing up. In an instant, Tae transformed back into the proper General Taenara. “I have others in my unit to attend to. I take it you have her, Finn Dameron?”

Finn must have given Taenara some kind of look or nod, some kind of reassurance. She smiled confidently and marched off toward Ursara, who was engaged in conversation with two uniformed First Order officers in restraints, flanked by Twi’lek soldiers. Only in that moment did Kira recognize the absolute, very  _different_ stillness of the command center. Only then did she recognize the feeling of  _relief._

It was over. It was over, and Kira  _ missed  _ it. Sometimes the galaxy really had a sense of humor.

“How long was I out?” Kira asked aloud, to no one in particular.

“Not sure,” Finn said over Kira’s shoulder.

Kira craned her neck, to realize that she’d been cradled in Finn’s arms this whole time. Her cheeks flushed a little red at the thought. 

“Why are we on the floor? Why are you-”

“You were dying. And I was trying to do  _ something _ . I guess I helped. You don't seem like you're dying anymore ,” Finn said. “Do you want me to-”

“Not really,” Kira sighed in exhaustion, leaning back against his chest. 

He did not seem to mind. Kira shifted Finn’s arms around her, checking at the bacta patch on her abdomen. It seemed to be holding well enough, but she would need a lot more care if there was internal bleeding. And there _was_ internal bleeding. There  _ had  _ to be more damage. She’d been run through with the damn Darksaber.

The Darksaber.

Kira sat up a little straighter, eyes scanning the room. They fell upon Orane Saxon’s mangled corpse, moved off unceremoniously to one side of the room. Kira shook her head, not willing to think about it. She kept scanning, trying to remember where  _exactly_ in the room  the fight had taken place.

Then, she saw it. The strange, flat hilt, lying haphazardly against the base of a console, unnoticed. Kira reached out her organic arm, wincing as the patched blaster wound on her bicep stung with the effort. She focused, drowning out the soldiers. She attuned only to the Darksaber — to her mother, to Mandalore, to Maul, to Bo-Katan, to Satine, to all of it — and left the rebels behind.

It flew to her hand, like an old friend jumping forward to embrace her. She could feel its power, and its history. It  _ called  _ to her, in a way not even her own sabers ever had.

Kira held the Darksaber before, on Mandalore. She was only a child. It was an offering to a curious child. A gift to the daughter of a friend. Then, it scared her. The power and pain coursing through it — the darkness clinging to the blade — made that young girl want to flee from the royal chamber. 

Now, it  _ belonged  _ to her. And Kira no longer feared the dark.

“Well, you wanted to know who I am,” Kira sighed, examining to the hilt. 

It really was immaculately designed, a beautiful example of Mandalorian engineering and artistry. Simple and elegant, with perfect use of line and negative space. The materials had withstood  _ a thousand years  _ of battle and weathering, with minimal telltale signs of significant repair. 

And then the blade itself was a little bit  _ too much _ , in a perfectly Mandalorian way.

“If you’re a Jedi,  _ where the hell have you been _ ?” Finn asked.

He was not accusing,  _ per se,  _ even if there was a hint of annoyance in the question. 

“As I said, I am no Jedi,” Kira said. “Being strong in the force — following the light or the dark — that is not what makes a Jedi. Or a Sith.

“And, I told you, the First Order has been hunting those strong with the Force. Where I have been? I’ve been running, Finn. How do you think a ‘Jedi’ loses an arm? To a common thug? To a stormtrooper?”

Kira examined her left arm, dented and damaged from the battle. Over the years, the bronze had taken on a life of its own. Kira embellished it, with abstract designs of native flora, from all the planets she once called home. She made peace with the machine, even if it took years.

“A  _ Sith  _ did this,” she explained, hissing the words in scathing rebuke. “I was lucky just to lose the arm. I was trying to find the Resistance base, that day. Trying to join the fight. But I learned something. I was only a liability to the Resistance, as long as Snoke was hunting them.

“With his death, things changed. And I came to Ryloth. They were in dire need, and I had debts to pay. And here we are,” Kira finished, with a long, deep exhale. 

“And-”

Finn’s follow up questions were cut short, by a sudden uptick in activity in the control room. More Twi'lek soldiers came pouring through the lift. General Mika and Commander Cotan joined them. Mika immediately made for the center console, where Taenara was still consulting with Nyx. Cotan, however, spotted Finn and Kira on the floor.

His eyes widened, and the commander immediately scanned the room. He fixated for a moment on General Nara’s body, and Kira watched his gaze follow the charred wounds of a lightsaber’s blade.

Then, he was over to Finn and Kira, asking with authority, “Do you need medical attention?”

“I’m stable, for now,” Kira insisted, waving him away with her left arm. It was the only part of her body that did not hurt. “I’ve been triaged. Let the medics do their job, Cotan.”

Cotan’s lips twisted into a wry smile, and he seemed to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he stood at attention, and gave a rather proper Rylothian salute.

“Fighting alongside you — both of you — has been a great honor,” he said solemnly. “And I know this war not over.  _ Your  _ war is not over. If you ever need to call on Ryloth, whatever the generals say,  _ I’ll  _ be there. The Spectres will be there. The Daughter of the Ghost deserves nothing less.”

Kira raised her own arm in salute, smiling warmly. He was so _serious_ , but Kira supposed, if there was ever a moment to actually be serious, this might be it.

“The honor was ours, commander,” she said. “And, no matter where this war takes me, I will always be here for Ryloth.”

“As will I,” Finn insisted, giving his own salute.

Cotan released his stance with a wide, excited grin. “At ease, soldiers,” he said. “I’d better get over to the generals, before my grandfather has my hide. Proper presentation for  _ The Rebellion,  _ and all that. Good luck, and may the force be with you. Or however it goes.”

Kira returned a wide, amused smile as he ran off. Then, the moment passed, as she leaned back with renewed exhaustion against Finn. He took hold of her hands, trying to find a position that carefully avoided her wounds, and rested his chin on her shoulder. Once, this strange kinship between warriors — between those who fought together for the same ideals, and the same people — it used to confuse her. Kira was Mandalorian, after all. She did not trust outsiders so easily. And yet, she could not resist the way such rapid bonds would form, from skirmishes on Coruscant to Geonosis.

“Were you hurt?” Kira asked softly. “I didn’t even ask. I’m such an ass-”

“Not a scratch,” Finn said, awe in his voice. “You were like a human shield out there. My arm’s still sore from the crash, but — you shouldn’t of put yourself out in front like—”

“That’s what we do,” Kira said, rolling her head back. “Or, that’s what the Jedi used to do. Sword and shield maneuver.”

“Yeah, but  _ you’re  _ not supposed to get shot doing it, right?”

Kira chuckled a little, wincing as the vibrations of her abdomen twisted like a knife. “Well, I never claimed to be  _ good  _ at any of this,” Kira admitted. “But it worked, right?”

“At what cost?” Finn insisted, his hand squeezing hers tightly. Fiercely. “That friend of mine? The one who reminded me what we’re fighting for. That this is about saving we what we love? She stopped me from doing  _ exactly  _ what you just did. Throwing myself in the line of fire. Being willing to sacrifice myself. There were so many times when you should have been—”

“Sometimes-”

“No,” Finn insisted, voice rough in her ear. “You matter to a lot of people. I don’t think you know that. But I’ve  _ been  _ you, Kira. I wanna help you. Because you matter to me, too.”

Kira swallowed hard. She picked up Finn’s hand and pressed it to her lips, holding it there.

“You don’t even-”

“Of course I know you,” Finn interrupted. “It doesn’t matter how long we-”

It was Finn’s turn to be cut off, once again. The lift doors opened once more, resulting in a renewed flurry of activity. This time, a stream of humans walked through the door. All of them were dressed in the mismatched, casual, telltale “uniforms” of the Resistance. Many wore bright orange flight suits.

And one pilot in particular stood out above all the rest.

Finn and Kira both gasped in unison.

"Poe."


	10. And I am the Force

Kira felt Finn freeze behind her, every muscle tensing in anticipation. She still held his hand to her lips, and Finn’s fingers clenched painfully around her own. Both of them stared, transfixed, at the Rebel pilot who just stepped off the lift.

For a moment, Poe Dameron looked around the control room, frantically searching fruitlessly for his target. Pain and worry and longing were etched clearly across his face, even from across the room. And it was his droid, a famous little BB unit, that spotted Finn. The droid beeped excitedly, catching Poe’s attention, and immediately rolled across the polished black floor at lightning speed.

Poe never saw Kira, not in that moment. And she was perfectly content with that. She watched Poe’s eyes light up, taking in everything. He looked so  _ old.  _ So battle-worn and weathered. So different from the sixteen-year-old smart-ass dreamer she left behind on Yavin-4. And yet, in that moment, as his eyes locked on Finn, Poe Dameron was  _ exactly  _ that young starry eyed boy again.

He dashed over, kneeling down between Finn and the frantically beeping droid. Poe flashed a confused look over at Kira. He  _ almost  _ recognized her, like something out of a dream. But she was so out of place, and his attention was elsewhere. Poe never made the connection to his childhood. That stung, just a little. All things considered, however, Kira could forgive him.

She smiled and slid out of Finn’s grasp, leaning painfully against the wall. She used the BB unit for support, and it chirped in protest underneath her. 

“Shhh,” she hushed the droid. “I wanna watch this.”

Finn’s hand slid out of Kira’s, and he shot her the briefest look of concern. Then, he was locked again on Poe, caught in a fierce embrace. Poe pulled back, looking over Finn again. Looking over the man he thought was lost to him, forever. Scanning every detail of his face in frantic desperation, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Finn’s. 

“I thought, I thought-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Finn said.

Finn grabbed Poe by the collar of his jumpsuit, and he kissed his husband. Kira at least had the decency to look over at Taenara, who returned the human's knowing smile. A warmth spread through Kira’s chest, as a feeling of deep understanding and connection passed through her. She was more than just relieved. She was _happy._ After all, when was the last time she saw Poe Dameron look so  _happy_?

The generals, however, were not  _ quite  _ so discrete nor personally involved. The Damerons were pretty damn famous, after all. Their reunion was bound to garner some attention. There were a few raised eyebrows and smiles, at first. And then, as Finn and Poe  _ kept going _ , oblivious to the onlookers, the applause began.

The two broke away, instantly, startled. Kira started laughing, before she had to stop herself, clutching at her side. There were whoops and hollers and loud, approving cheers. The soldiers of the Ryloth resistance — the ones who fought and trained looking up to Resistance heroes, to the fabled ones who brought down Starkiller Base — cheered loudest of all.

Poe actually  _ blushed _ , even as he broke into a cocky grin. Finn covered half his face with his hands, looking over to Kira. She only silently laughed, shaking her head. What could she do, to get them out of this?

“Welcome to Ryloth!” she shouted over the din. 

Poe tilted his head with a sudden jerk, before looking straight over at Kira with one eyebrow raised. There was still the ghost of his cocky smile, etched upon his face. Now, however, he was more bemused than anything. 

Poe still, in the end, looked like his old self. Same hair. Same roguish charm. Even the same damn orange flight suit from training, really.

Kira, however, was a woman changed. Her face was marked by battle scars. Her skin was scorched by desert sun. One arm was gone, replaced by metal. Her hair was no longer an array of vibrant color, for dye was hard to find these days. 

And her eyes. Kira knew. She wore the eyes of a different woman, after so many years on the run.

But her voice. Somehow, in sixteen years of battle and pain and loss, her voice never really changed.

And Poe heard it. And he remembered.

“You’re alive,” he gasped, reaching out instinctively with one hand. He grabbed at the back of Kira's head, face in shock, before Poe remembered to _breathe._ And then he pulled a little, bushing her cheek lightly. His eyes stayed wide, upon finding real flesh there, tacky with blood. “You’re alive.”

“It’s good to see you, little brother,” she said, voice heavy. “I guess we have a lot to talk ab-”

Poe pulled her to a fierce hug, his crushing embrace all instinct. Even through the pain, if only for a moment, Kira held on. She buried her head into his shoulder, memories of the home they shared flooding back. Everything was a tangled mess, unresolved and dangerous. Hope and love. Guilt and rage. Safety and horror.

“ _ You’re  _ the Jedi everyone’s talking about,” Poe realized, his voice breathy. He was barely even able to get the words out, as he still clung to her.

“Yeah, and that Jedi has some serious wounds. And you’re crushing her to death,” Kira gasped. “So maybe, you know-”

Poe let go, concern flashing across his face. He scanned Kira for the first time, really getting a good look at her. He took in the multiple bacta patches. The blood-stained armor. The swath of blood running down half her face and neck. The scars, old and new, hidden beneath that carnage. The  _ arm.  _ The bronze, banged up arm. 

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Poe scolded. He reached protective brother mode — even though Kira was fifteen months his elder — in record time. 

“See?” Finn said, patting Poe on the shoulder, puffing up in a reassured manner. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, you two are going to be  _ insufferable _ ,” Kira realized with a groan.

“Oh, don’t start. You do not get to — I mean —  _ Kira Bridger Wren, where the hell have you been _ ?”

Poe’s eyes were suddenly alight with pain. With disappointment. Betrayal. For sixteen years, he fought without her. No matter her reasons, Kira doubted she would ever be truly forgiven for this.

The command center fell into a terse silence. “Can we talk about this  _ later _ ?” Kira begged, jerking her head as she gestured to the crowd. To the generals. “It’s a long story, Poe.”

“You disappear, without a trace. After that night. After the damn  _ Sith _ came after you — and I’m just supposed to  _ drop it _ ?” Poe asked, mouth agape at the very suggestion.

“No, but we have  _ work  _ to do,” Kira said through gritted teeth. “Eventually, the First Order will get a  _ little  _ concerned about the lack of communication from Ryloth. We can’t just keep sending out fake all clear codes forever. So, unless the Rebels are planning on bugging out, we need a plan.  So you and I need to  _ table  _ this very long discussion about my life story for  _ later _ , okay?”

Poe narrowed his eyes. There was a long and very pregnant pause before he relented, “Fine.”

A terse silence stretched between them, a silence that echoed across the whole room. Their audience made Kira want to shrink in on herself. Or explode outward. Use the force to flee.

Instead, General Mika broke the stalemate. “Damerons, up here. And you,” he pointed sternly at Kira, before gesturing with authority at a medical officer, flagging him over to Kira’s position. “Lieutenent Wren,  _ you  _ will be staying right there.”

“You need-”

“Oh, so you got a promotion when I wasn’t looking, did you? Or became a brilliant military tactician?”

“Um, we just — I just—”

“Unleashed a bag of crazy, in a desperate hour,” Mika admitted. “And for that, Ryloth will always owe you. You’ll probably get a damn medal. Right now, however, we actually have the time and resources to plan a proper counterattack. And  _ you  _ are bleeding to death, so  _ stay there. _ ”

“Worried about me, General?” Kira asked, eyebrow raised.

She made to stand, but her injured leg buckled beneath her. The medical officer rushed over. He pushed aside the white-and-orange BB unit. BB-8 beeped loudly, ramming back into the officer's leg. However, the medical officer was unperturbed. He pulled out scanning equipment and started to examine Kira in a flurry of activity, the Twi’lek’s scowl growing more pronounced with every second.

“Wait, bleeding to death? What is he-”

“I’ve got her, commander,” the officer insisted, never looking up at Poe from his instruments. “Her wounds are serious, but nothing critical. That patch job is holding, for now. She’ll be alright.”

Kira smiled weakly at Poe. “You’ve got a meeting to get to. Ryloth’s counting on you. Both of you,” she insisted, looking over to Finn.

Finn’s brow was scrunched in concern, watching the medical officer’s every move with intensity. Kira looked down to watch the officer check on the bacta patch over her abdomen. Old, brown blood oozed out around the edges. Kira reached out her metal arm, resting it as reassuringly as she could on Finn’s shoulder. 

“Hey, go. Save a world,” she told them, eyes alight. 

Both Finn and Poe gave her looks of absolute disbelief. Their every instinct was to stay at her side. And Poe, in particular, looked on at this woman — at this weirdly  _selfless_ young woman — as if he'd seen a ghost. Kira never used to be like this, that was for damn sure. They shared a look of understanding and recognition. They were both so changed by war and violence and pain. The children of their past would not even recognize them. And yet, they had grown into two people fighting for the same cause. Fighting for freedom, hope, and life. And, in that, they were  _exactly_ the same. 

Kira flashed Poe and wide grin, using her metal arm to give him a weak, playful punch to the bicep.

“Don’t fuck it up.”


	11. There is Balance

Kira awoke in a fog, her world a daze of bright lights and misremembered dreams. Her eyes darted about the foreign room, out of focus, never finding an anchor to hold on to. How had she  _ gotten  _ there? 

She remembered sitting, cradled against Finn, safe even as the bacta patch right under her liver started to fail. She remembered Poe coming in off the lift. She remembered his relief and love and fury and pain. She remembered the tutting and frantic orders of the Twi’lek medical officer. 

She  _ thought  _ she remembered the vague strokes of a counterstrike, of another attack against First Order reinforcements as they fell out of hyperspace above the skies of Ryloth. But it was all echoing, distant shouts, punctuated by _pain._ She  _ definitely  _ remembered the searing pain — not of the medics and their operations, right there on the slick, starry floor — but of the Force being rent apart, by all the death still tearing through her. 

And then there was a single moment, a spark of vision. A memory of a dead planet, as solid and real as Ryloth. A familiar, sorrowful woman. A red saber. A terrifying monster.

And then Kira was  _ here _ , wherever here was. Lights flashing in front of her eyes, fingers numb, toes at least able to wiggle. After her eyes came into focus, Kira recognized the flexpoly bacta suit that cradled her, rather uncomfortably. The lights flashing about were telemetry readings, projected on her still coffin-like transparent pod. Kira took a moment to focus, recognizing the stable vitals and rhythms. She watched the pattern of her own heartbeat on the glass, taking some solace in its regularity.

Then, Kira swung the bubbled door open, against her better judgement, and tried to get a keener look at the room. Her eyes immediately fell on Poe, curled on a bench right next to the pod. He had changed into casual, Resistance-issue downtime gear — a rough-hewn beige shirt, collar undone, with the logo on the shoulder; and olive slacks, boots kicked off — and looked an  _ absolute mess.  _ Unshaven for  _ days _ , hair sticking out at odd angles, drool down his chin.

Just how long had she been out?

Kira gingerly sat up, carefully adjusting her weight. The room spun, for a moment, before settling back into place. She took stock of everything, from her lightheadedness to the not-so-modest white band across her chest to Finn, curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair, also dead to the world.

He, at least, looked a little better taken care of. He was clean shaven, his outfit fresh-pressed. (Though also terribly  _ beige,  _ and very possibly from Poe’s closet. Kira needed to get both boys some  _ color _ , stat.) She wondered if her newfound comrade-in-arms was trying, and failing, to keep Poe together. It was what she would have done.

Kira then turned out to the large, room-spanning window, noticing it for the first time. There were only stars. Clear and bright, stretching on for thousands of lightyears, with not a planet or moon or single asteroid belt in sight.

A starship, then. Kira reached out, with the force, feeling for Vayel Taenara. When she felt nothing, Kira prayed she was only terribly out of practice, even after the battle. She prayed they were still over Ryloth, just on the wrong side of the ship. She prayed Tae was here, somewhere, aboard.

Kira was a very good liar. Especially when she was lying to herself.

“Don’t. Do. That. Again.”

Kira turned back to see Poe Dameron, despondent but stern, staring straight at her. His eyes were bleak, red, and utterly sleep deprived.

“You almost-”

“I get it,” Kira said, closing her eyes, twisting her fingers into the soft bedding of the pod. “Died. I almost died. I get it. How long was I out?”

“Four days. Four days, Kira,” Poe scolded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is this a joke to — look at me when I’m talking to you.”

For the first time, Kira heard the beeping of alarms going off. Opening the pod must have triggered something, but Kira had not even noticed. There was too much  _ other  _ noise, reverberating through the galaxy. The songs of war and violence, newly awakened. At least to her. Kira was amazed she could hear  _anything_ else through the terrible symphony.

“Kira!”

Her eyes snapped open, and Kira looked to Poe. To her one-time little brother. She wondered if that would ever be true again. And, for the first time, fear pooled in her gut.

“Don’t blame the generals,” she begged quietly. “It was my idea.”

“Of course it was, but I can’t  _ believe  _ they would sign off of it. Mika and Orian and  _ Taenara- _ ”

“Oh that's really rich coming from you,” Kira snapped. Calling Tae’s judgement into question flipped a switch. Her fearful attempt at an honest apology vanished, its vapors igniting into a fury of protective fire. “ _ You _ . You think I don’t know about that stunt you pulled on Starkiller Base? About the fucking D’Qar evac? About the _mutiny,_ Poe? I work intelligence, asshole. I know about the reckless, suicidal, borderline treasonous bullshit you’ve pulled. At least  _ I  _ was following orders.”

“Hey!”

Kira and Poe both snapped their heads in Finn’s direction. He was sitting bolt upright in his chair, hands both outstretched in disbelief.

“You two really are like brother and sister,” he observed. “Two seconds in and you’re already bickering about who’s the bigger trigger happy hotshot.”

Poe raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the support,  _ dear, _ ” he said dryly.

“Whatever happened to ‘I’m going to put the past behind us, no matter what she did?’” Finn asked, voice soft and concerned.

Kira raised an eyebrow at Poe, relaxing her posture a little. " _You_ said that?" she asked. "Who are you and what have you done with-"

"Oh, don't start-"

Finn stood up, the motion bringing both children of Yavin up short. The former stormtrooper stretched, cracking his neck and back, clearly uncomfortable. And then, with an exasperated shake of his head, he made for the door.

“ _ You’re leaving _ ?” Poe asked, voice shooting up an octave in shock.

“Uh, you two need to work this out,” Finn insisted, pointing between them with the look of a parent giving up on breaking up a fight between his kids. He stopped as the doors slid open, placing one hand hesitantly on the doorframe. Finn looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Kira. “Go easy on each other. You’re family. You don’t know how lucky you are to have that.  I mean, with everything going on. I — well, I’m gonna see if I can reach Rey and Rose.  _ Work. It. Out. _ ”

The door shut behind Finn, and his sort of ultimatum left a regretful pall over the room. The contrast brought the chaos of alarms, still blaring from the pod, into sharp relief.

“For fucks-”

Kira grumbled a few more choice obscenities under her breath, few of them in Basic. She messed with the pod, searching feverishly until she found the necessary override controls at the foot of the bed. Finally, there was stillness and silence in the room. And tension. Dramatic tension, with neither child of Yavin willing to speak first.

Finally, after what could have been a full ten minutes, Kira raised an eyebrow and observed, “You look like shit.”

“Look who’s talking,” Poe shot back, eyes scanning up and down her bacta suit.

Kira swore, beneath the anger and sleep deprivation, she saw a  _ ghost  _ of a smile. It was enough. Enough to break through these false barriers. These walls that, almost two decades ago, Poe and Kira  _never_ would have built between them.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “For all of it. For leaving. For staying away. For never getting a message out. There were reasons, but-”

“General Taenara explained everything,” Poe admitted. He took Kira's hand in both of his, swallowing hard as his fingers traced the scars and cuts and callouses. “She told me about how the First Order hunted you. The first dregs of the First Order, anyway. Before we even really knew they were _out_ there. She told be Hera rescued you. That's why you both disappeared. And then you found a Jedi? Someone taught you to hide? I didn't get that part."

"They kept finding us," Kira said quietly, running her thumb in circles over the back of Poe's hand. "At one point, it looked really bad. We were starting to run out of fuel. Couldn't dock anywhere. They didn't have a tracking device on the ship. We could figure out how they kept  _finding_ us. And then — it's hard to explain. To someone who's not, well,  _you know._ But it was like this  _light._ This  _connection_ that was always there. And I followed it. Hera trusted me. Said Kanan and, well, my _dad_ had done stuff like that. And it led us to  _Coruscant,_ of all places.

"That's where I found her. She was not a Jedi. She was very adamant about that. But she trained me. In the force. In combat. She taught me history. The Jedi. The Sith. All of it. And she taught me how to hide. How to find places in the galaxy that can  _cloud_ the force, because how they were tracking us. It just still wasn't always enough."

Kira trailed off, her gaze involuntarily falling on her left arm. Poe's eyes followed hers, his focus tracing over every engraved flower and tree running along the metal. 

"It was too dangerous for you to reach out. If a message was intercepted, you could've been caught. Or, worse — or worse," Poe froze, choking on the words. His bleak and bleary eyes grew glassy.

“That wasn't why I did it, dummy," Kira said, reaching out to tilt his chin back up. She looked him straight in the eyes. "I ran. I was silent. I was an _asshole._ Because, knowing me would make you a target. _One_ pilot doesn’t typically make for anything very interesting to the First Order. You weren’t on their radar, not until you  _ really  _ started pissing  them off." — Kira's eyes sparkled mischievously with pride, her lips twisting into the ghost of a smile. — "But the last remaining loved one of a  _ Jedi _ ? Or someone that looks like one, anyway? That's practically priceless. And not just to Snoke. It’s not just the First Order that’s been hunting us. Force sensitive kids, they’ve always been, well,  _ valuable  _ to the right buyer.”

“You warned me,” Poe admitted, looking down to his boots. He turned them this way and that, working the words over in his head. “When we were just kids. I was, what, twelve? You said not to get close to you. That people who get close to Jedi and Mandalorians just hurt.”

Kira sat in silence a moment, ruminating on the crushing feeling welling up in her chest. 

“Well, I am no Jedi, Poe. And Mandalore is dead,” she said, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “I think knowing me has hurt you enough. Maybe it’s time we fight back, against prophecy and repeating history.”

“Does that mean — we just had better tech. That's the only real reason you're on board,” he explained. Poe's eyes lit up, processing what Kira was proposing. “Are you staying, then? With the Rebellion? I could take you back to Ryloth. I mean, isn't there something with that General Taenara? Cause the way she talked about you-”

His voice trailed off, face lighting up with mischief and intense curiosity.  _There_ was the utterly annoying, too-nosy-for-his-own-good little brother Kira remembered.

“What, Finn didn’t say? He was literally  _ right there  _ while we totally made out," Kira laughed. "Or did I just imagine that while I was dying? Some kind of crazy fever dream thing?”

“You - he - I’m going to kill my husband,” Poe proclaimed, very matter-of-factly. “No, he didn’t mention it. He said he didn’t know if you two were a thing!”

“Well, I mean, we never _really_ were. She’s my C.O.,” Kira explained. “Or she was. There was this unspoken agreement that we would keep things on the back-burner. It’s against Ryloth military protocol.”

“And  _ you  _ actually went with that?” Poe asked incredulously, eyebrows practically receding into his hairline. 

Kira rolled her eyes, gesticulating wildly with her metal arm as she launched into a rant, “Admittedly,  _ that  _ was all Tae. It was  _ very  _ confusing at first, let me tell you. She was so  _ flirty _ , and then she’d go full military protocol two seconds later. And this is  _ me _ we’re talking about, right? So I’m oblivious as fuck anyway, you know? I’ll tell you right now, that hasn’t changed in sixteen years. Once I understood Ryl it was easier. I mean, there’s  _ so much  _ body language Twi’lek use, you have no idea. And  _ oh my god  _ am I glad I finally have someone to rant to about this.”

Kira finished, taking a great inhale as she ran out of breath. The two of them looked at each other, with a spark of realization. For a second, Kira was seventeen again, gossiping about girls and boys and who was secretly banging who out behind the X-wings on the old base. She laughed, a full bellied laugh that, remarkably, did not hurt at all. And Poe laughed with her. They were going to be okay.

He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and sighed. “I missed you,” Poe said.

“I missed you, too, little brother,” she said, raising his hand briefly to her lips. “And I’m not going anywhere. I love Vayel, but she knows that my fight, it’s — I did what I was supposed to do, on Ryloth. It is safe, right, for now?”

“The First Order's given up on retaking it. For now,” Poe confirmed. “We’ve reinforced Ryloth's fleet and army, given them what relief supplies and fighters we can afford. It’s not much, but with the First Order munitions they commandeered — and the Beast, of course — they really have a fighting chance even if the First Order sends another wave.”

“Then my debt — no, not a debt. I protected that part of my family. I did what I could,” Kira corrected herself. “But this war is so much bigger. And I can’t run from it anymore. I belong here, with you. Even if Vayel's fight is still on Ryloth. We'll be alright."

Poe smiled sadly, apparently not really believing her. Kira supposed she did not exactly believe it herself. But this was war. They all had to make sacrifices.

Kira shook her head, looking at Poe with steely resolution, "Besides, Snoke is dead. Kylo Ren is apparently way more focused on your Rey. And I get the impression that my arrival on the scene won't really change that. They can't and won't hunt me, they way they did before. The lack of attention I drew on Ryloth — well, up until I _did_ draw attention – proved that. I don’t pose the same threat to you or the Rebellion that I once did. I can actually _help._ ”

Kira smiled warmly. She turned over Poe’s hand, tracing over every line and callus of his palm with careful, steady fingers. Finally, she looked up, _absolutely_ sure of her decision.

“I’m staying.”


	12. The Unknown Prayer

# Book Two: Light

# Chapter Twelve: The Unknown Prayer

 

_“Flowing through all, there is balance._

_There is no peace without a passion to create._

_There is no passion-”_

Kira stopped her whispering meditation, feeling the shift of a body at her side. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, looking out to the stars beyond her window. Kira twisted her neck to watch Poe turn over, throwing his arm over a pillow. It was time to awaken, though Poe had not gotten the memo. And Kira had been up for hours. She turned back around, trying to focus. Failing to focus. With a discontented sigh, Kira lay back down at bed's edge, twining her fingers through Poe's.

It was funny. She was absolutely accustomed to sleeping in new places, from shady hostels and alleyways to foxholes and bunkers. And she was no stranger to sleeping alone. Yet, in the two weeks since the Battle of the Beast, Kira barely slept at all.

A soft golden orb dimly lit her quarters, gently simulating a sun that would never rise aboard the  _Home One._ Not when it was stationed out in an uncharted region of space, at any rate. Kira looked about her private chamber, in the soft light, eyes casting over the holster on the bedside table and the fine dress laid out for the morning. It was a bizarre luxury, actually having a private chamber. Kira knew she should enjoy it. Instead, she seemed to revert back to her childhood, while being around Poe. She revered back to when they were just children, right after Kira's mother died. They would seek escape, from nightmares real and imagined, by just holding each other.

Now, once more there were plenty of nightmares that needed escaping from. Poe understood. And, much to Kira's surprise, so did Finn. She still felt rather guilty, stealing Poe's company night after night. Just not guilty enough to stop.

_"There is no passion without peace to guide._

_Knowledge stagnates-”_

"Go back to bed, Key," Poe groaned. 

Kira sighed, turning onto her side to face Poe. She poked his exhausted, still half-asleep face with a metal finger, causing him to bat her hand away.

"It's morning," Kira mourned. "And I'm not sure I actually slept last night, anyway."

Poe's single open eye looked at her with concern, his face still smashed into the pillow. "Again?" he asked, turning reluctantly off of his stomach. "What's up with you?"

"Gee, I wonder," Kira deadpanned, poking at his shoulder. She toyed with Poe's fingers in her other hand, before continuing, "Not like it has anything to do with yesterday's meeting, or anything."

"So tell them no, Key," he said. Poe made it sound so _easy._ "You said it yourself, last night. You won't be their Mandalorian princess."

"Mandalore doesn't even have princesses," Kira muttered bitterly. "But, it's more than that. I mean,  _a diplomatic envoy,_ Poe? Me?"

Kira wildly miscalculated her coming out on Ryloth. In the past two weeks, she learned just how significant a new "jedi" on the scene was. The Rebellion took hope from it. From _her._ Though that was far from Kira's original intent. It was just a good distraction. A necessary last ditch effort. 

Sure, Kira made that big speech. She channeled  _actual_ heroes of the Rebellion in her daring, theatric stunt. She channeled them through every word, as if  _wishing_ on those words hard enough could make them true.

She forgot, however, how easily politicians turned to cash in on such stunts.  _Every_ Rebellion higher up seemed to have an opinion on Kira's role within their organization. Everyone, it seemed, except Kira.

Some assholes wanted her to be an ambassador from Ryloth. That was an absolute nonstarter. No matter how fiercely she fought for the beautiful, war torn world, it was her home for only a short time. Any ambassadorship belonged to a _true_ child of Ryloth.

Mandalore proved an even rawer subject, especially considering what happened with Saxon. The lost Mandalorian princess comments were no joke. Certain higher ups — _many_ higher ups — so wanted Kira to take after her mother and Bo-Katan. To unite the Mandalorian diaspora. To rally them to the Rebellion cause. Not because of what was good for Mandalore, of course. But because the First Order was swiftly recovering from their defeat above Crait. Because the Rebellion needed allies. They needed  _soldiers._

_And then._ And then. Then there were those who wished Kira to be part of a new Jedi Order. To join with Rey and restart Luke Skywalker’s work. Because _that_ had gone so well, the first time around.

It was all so fucking ridiculous. Kira did not even know where to  _start_ tearing their assumptions and ambitions down.

"You're turning red," Poe observed, shaking Kira's hand playfully.

"It's dark in here. You can't see shit," Kira grumbled. Every muscle of her body tensed. Kira exhaled, realizing how long she'd held her breath.

Poe started shaking her arm erratically. "Relax, Key. Relax, relax, relax," he said, voice breaking with a hint of a laugh. 

He jabbed at her abdomen, and Kira backhanded him playfully. "Stop," she groaned, cracking a reluctant smile. "You don't get—"

"Oh, I don't get it?" Poe asked. He stopped playing, propping himself up on one elbow. "Seriously?"

"I don't mean to knock your very harrowing life, Poe. But, no, you don't," Kira huffed. She sat up, cross-legged and spine straight as a board. "You're not a pawn on the board. You're playing the game. You're not a shiny new card in their deck: the exotic new  _Mandalorian Jedi._ "

"Fine. Then tell them  _no_ ," Poe repeated. "There's a million other ways you can help the Rebellion."

"But then I'm still here," she insisted, gesticulating dramatically around the room. "I'm still  _me._ Or, at least, I'm the image of me they've already got in their heads. The leader. The warrior.  _And yes,_ I know that's my own damn fault." — Kira curled into a ball, pressing her forehead to her knees. — "But it's not the truth. I'm a survivor, if you're being kind. A runaway, if you're not. But the natural successor to the legend of my parents? Of the  _Ghost_? Of the Jedi and Mandalore and  _all of it_? Come on, Poe."

The angry, sickly feeling of anxiety and despair twisted tighter about her middle. What they did not know — what they  _could not_ know — was how unfit Kira actually was to lead or protect or fight for  _anyone._

"Breathe," a voice whispered in her ear.

Poe shifted, sitting up next to Kira and wrapping his arms around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder. Her own breathing fell in time with his, after a while. Here, at least for a moment, she was safe. 

She tried to center again, letting her body guide her. She felt the rise and fall of her chest. She felt the wounded place in her abdomen that stretched just a little out of time. She felt the slight headache coming on, the twinge at the center of her forehead.

She felt outward, through the _Home One._ The ship was a surprisingly perfect place to attune, to feel the reverberating, musical echoes in the Force. The past, the present, even the future. The Mon Calamari ship had actually been there, over thirty years ago, at the first meeting of the Rebellion Fleet above Dantooine. She was one of the first ships to answer Mon Mothma’s call at the very start of the Rebellion. As Kira's parents stood by the exiled senator's side. Even more remarkably, the  _Home One_ lead the attack against the destruction of the Second Death Star.

She was even at the Battle of Jakku — the last stand of the Empire — when Kira was just a girl. Of course, the Republic had no idea what seeds were planted in that battle. It was the staging ground for the founding of the First Order, with Imperial survivors fleeing into the Unknown Regions. And that battle created the very landscape of modern Jakku. It created the world that one very special Jedi grew up on.

All of that history was etched into the ship. It was etched into the few veterans who still served aboard it. The past and present intertwined aboard her. Life and death, stretching across the galaxy, weaving their song. And Kira could _feel_ it all.

In the few short weeks since leaving Ryloth, Kira made a commitment. There was no more hiding. Not just from the Rebellion. There was no more hiding from  _the Force._  She embraced it wholeheartedly. Or, at least, she tried. And she found her connection to the galaxy growing in return. The Force was almost _ravenous_ within her, yearning to reach out. The only stumbling block was _her,_ the walls and obstacles in Kira’s own head. The way the past bled into the cracks of the present.

_“Flowing through all, there is balance._

_There is no peace without a passion to create._

_There is no passion without peace to guide._

_Knowledge stagnates-”_

Poe sat up straight. "What? Why are you stopping?" he asked.

"The door," Kira said, nodding toward the antechamber.

The bell rang, causing Poe to shift and move away from Kira. "Yeah, that's still creepy," he said. "Who—"

Finn did not wait for Kira to buzz him in. He marched through the antechamber and leaned against the bedroom door frame, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Will you two  _please_ stop turning off your comms?" he groaned, exasperated.

"Only once you learn how to properly use a doorbell," Kira shot back. "I mean, Finn, it's not hard. First, you—"

"What if we were under attack?" Finn interrupted, crossing his arms.

"There's these things. Called alarms. Fascinating inventions," she deadpanned. "I'm sure—"

"Wait. I didn't turn off my comm," Poe said. He fumbled through a pile of stuff at the foot of the bed, finally finding his comm unit in a jacket pocket. "Kira Bridger Wren—"

"You needed to sleep, asshole. Maybe you think the permanent bags under your eyes and unshaven mess of a 'beard' are part of your aesthetic or something, but it's really not a good look," Kira explained.

"Key, you can't just go around—"

"If there was really an emergency, obviously—"

"Argue later. Clothes now," Finn interrupted. "I have a surprise for you two."

Kira turned around, raising an eyebrow at Finn. There was something  _different_ about his demeanor. Sure, he was still pretty annoyed with Poe and Kira. That was not particularly unusual, on any given day. Beneath, however, there was an unbridled excitement. Finn usually only felt this way around Poe, the contentment coming off him in waves, even in the middle of intense briefings. This time, however, Finn's giddiness was from something — or  _someone_ — else. Kira listened, for a moment. She heard the safety and peace. The sense of belonging. And, just barely audible, a dark seed under the surface: a morsel of heartbreaking insecurity. The expectation that everything would fall apart. That it could not be real. That he was not so lucky.

Kira immediately hopped onto the balls of her feet, grabbing her dress off the nearby hanger. Finn certainly had her attention, and her suspicion. She dashed into the next room, changing quickly, and stepped back out as the fine material of her deep blue dress fell into place. She ran her fingers over the silk of the long sleeves, still foreign to her skin. How strange, to be wearing a  _dress._

How strange — far stranger, in truth — to look so regal. Kira turned up the lights — to half-asleep protests from Poe — and took a look in the mirror. A stranger's face — gaunt, haunted, and all dressed up — stared back at her. The stranger wore a high, dramatic collar and glittering military regalia, pinned to her shoulder. How strange, to  _care_ about such things. Kira never gave a damn about uniform regulations down on Ryloth, not that there were many. But, here, upon her shoulder, were markings of Ryloth's struggle. Of her freedom. They demonstrated Kira's official rank within the military, before her honorable discharge: lieutenant  _commander._

Stranger and more beautiful were the two, rare medals, fixed neatly below her rank. Kira was proudest of the Tal Darap, the second highest military honor bestowed by Ryloth’s army. The Snowbird Crest, too, was impressive — a civilian honor from the Rebellion. Kira remembered the Snowbirds, from Hosnian Prime. She used to watch them from her balcony, many years ago. The medals on her chest  _meant_ something. And that, perhaps, was most surprising of all.

Not that Kira intended to be a total sellout. She was a  _rebel_ , after all. Kira adjusted her medals in the mirror, but she made sure her hair was appropriately  _inappropriate._ She messed her bed head up a little more, admiring its new, beautiful, richly colored green-blue ombre. Being part of the Rebellion proper — with their surprisingly comprehensive supply lines — had its perks.

"Here."

Poe handed Kira her holster off the bedside table, still rubbing sleepily at his eye. She nodded and awkwardly secured the contraption about her waist. It held  _three_ lightsabers and a blaster. Even Kira had to admit how ridiculous that looked. And she was the one who slept with an extra blaster in a thigh holster, just in case. She was the one who never so much as left her room without those lightsabers, even to go hang out with Finn and Poe in their quarters across the corridor. 

Kira stared in the mirror, one last time. She felt  _naked_ without her armor, even if rocking a Mandalorian get up was the  _last_ thing she needed aboard the  _Home One._ The weapons, however, she would not drop, despite all their implications. After all, Kira could feel how the force  _ached_ with anticipation. Darkness was rolling through the galaxy, wave after wave, crashing against the shores of a thousand worlds. These were no echoes of the past nor the present. They were dark tidings. Pain from the future. And Kira would be ready. This time.

"You good?" Poe asked, snapping Kira out of her reverie.

He kissed her on the temple, before walking toward the door, hand-in-hand with Finn. Poe still wore the same trousers and pale beige shirt from the day before, his jacket thrown over them and his hair barely combed. Kira sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. He was just doing it on purpose, now. Finn had even brought a change of clothes, laying untouched on a nearby chair. Kira shook her head and caught up to the two of them, clamping one hand on each boy's shoulder.

Finn's energy was infectious, walking through the brightly-lit corridors of the  _Home_ _One._ Kira focused on it, instead of the curious looks being thrown her way. Finn's serenity and joy rolled off him. It was impossible to resist relaxing in the presence of it. It was easy to forget how Finn had just barged into her chambers, without properly knocking, and woken her up. It was easy to forget the questions Kira wanted to ask, about how Finn weathered being an ex-stormtrooper among the Rebellion's politics, when the dust from Crait settled. It was even easy to forget that Kira had wanted to call Taenara first thing that morning.

The trio traveled through the _Home One_ on one of the transports, silently rocketing through the central transportation shaft that ran the length of the massive ship. Kira kept her focus on Finn's energy, drowning out a conversation about relief supply deliveries to Dantooine. And, when the doors opened again, Kira  _felt_ it. Felt _her._ A force. Hidden, before, among the life and bustle of the _Home One._ Hiding like a woman with a bounty on her head could shelter on busy worlds, from Coruscant to Nar Shaddaa. 

Now, that tiny whisper in the force was a torrent, an exploding star giving off light — and darkness — so loudly Kira was aghast at how deaf she’d been, only a few moments before.

It all came together. Finn's surprise. Finn's emotions. Kira’s particularly difficult meditations. Her new nightmares and visions. And now, this _force._ A familiar feeling _pulling_ at Kira, even as it pushed her away with a warding scream. Destiny was an unkind and merciless goddess. 

Kira thought to run, for only a moment. Then, she looked at Poe, and his eyes sparkled with understanding. He knew the look in her eyes — Kira’s cryptic, "Jedi bullshit" look — from their days on Yavin-4. In the weeks since the Battle of the Beast, Poe had become even more astute in picking up on it. His surprise turned to concern. After all, lately, strong jolts in the force were bad omens.

Not this one. Or so Kira prayed.

She elbowed Finn playfully as they stepped off the transport. He raised an eyebrow, and Kira broke into a warm and understanding smile.

"So, where is she?"

 


	13. The Broken Code

In the situation room, hidden from all prying eyes, five figures cast shadows among blinking lights and updating maps. A trio of unlikely Rebel heroes stood at one side of a small, circular table. Finn and Poe were totally at ease, familiar with their surroundings and excited about the meeting ahead. Kira fidgeted between them, her feet dancing beneath the floor length hem of her dress. She looked across the table at the two strangers in the room, with pure apprehension.

Across from her stood two genderless figures, dressed in the armor of mercenaries or bounty hunters. Their attire was practical — abundant pockets and lightweight, carbon-fiber plating in only the most necessary locations. One had a mean-looking blaster repeater slung over their shoulder. The other carried a pistol at their hip and a staff over their back. Their faces were covered with very _functional_ helmets, which of course concealed their identities.

They looked an absolute mess. It was all practicality, and no _style._ Kira wondered immediately which inexperienced, function-over-form intelligence officer had put together the disguises. Perhaps some low-level bounty hunters would buy that these, too, were newbies. But the whole look was just so  _disappointing._ No Outer Rim mercenary worth their salt went around with so little flair.

"So, Rose Tico," Kira said, nodding to the figure with the blaster rifle. She turned her attention to the woman with the tell-tale staff, "And Rey. Nice to finally meet you both."

Rose pulled off her helmet first, looking disappointed. She shrugged, before turning to Finn with accusation in her eyes, “You boys were supposed to make her guess.”

“She cheated. She used the force," Finn accused, casting Kira a sidelong glance.

Kira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I used the force, you dummy. That's not _cheating._ Besides, _of course_ I would know if freaking _Rey_ was standing across the table from me," she said, gesturing dramatically at the still-masked Jedi. "And so would any force-sensitive hunters the First Order likely has out there looking for you, by the way.”

Rey removed her helmet, shaking out her long hair. Her brow furrowed as she studied the peculiar woman in front of her, and Kira returned the look in kind. She was finally face-to-face with  _the_ Rey. And all Kira saw before her was a child. A powerful one, to be sure. Raw power radiated off her, in waves. But it was wrapped up under the face of a young girl, all wide green eyes and unmarked skin.

“But we — I took out Snoke’s guard,” Rey said matter-of-factly, still studying Kira intently. Her eyes lingered on the holster, and on the obvious lightsabers hanging off Kira's hips. “They could have been force-sensitive, I think. You believe there are more?”

“I know there are,” Kira said, placing both palms flat against the table and leaning forward. “The First Order has been hunting our kind for years. They’ve sent more than their fair share of agents and bounty hunters after me. Holdovers from the Empire. Willing new recruits. Some were just poor bastards they kidnaped and brainwashed. Or blackmailed. Ben Solo was _not_ the only would-be jedi that Snoke went after.”

“You know, I really _love_ it when you remind us how fucked we are,” Poe said, crossing his arms and shooting Kira a scolding look.

Kira gave him some side eye, before returning her attention to Rey. The young jedi chewed at her lip, calculating.

Rose spoke up, eyebrows raised. “If that’s true, then _why_ are the two of you so resistant to rebuilding the Jedi, again?” she asked. "If the First Order's building that kind of army, like it or not, then we need a way to defend ourselves."

Rey and Kira locked eyes across the table. They were on the same page, more or less. Finn had recited Rey's account of everything that happened on Ahch-To, to a rapt Kira shortly after the Battle. Kira knew all about Luke, even if she did not  _fully_ understand what actually happened, in the end. So, Kira knew Luke's position. And Rey's. Rose was not wrong. It would take more than two force users to combat Kylo Ren alone, if half the stories about his combat prowess were true. And the rest of the First Order was another battle, all together. But there  _had_ to be another way.

"The Jedi should  _never_ be an army," Kira said emphatically. "The Jedi Order of old—"

Kira trailed off, not even knowing where to begin.

“You know this story,” Rey said, picking up Kira's train of thought. “We’ve gone over this. After everything Rose and I have seen. The destroyed temples. The holocrons. The texts I took from the island, the ones we can actually _read_ anyway. There’s _good_ in the Jedi teachings. But it was twisted. Corrupted.”

Kira nodded solemnly and added, “Any organization that massive — to have a _religious_ order intertwined with the Republic, to have it become a military wing, engaged as generals of a war effort — it always failed. The Mandalorian Wars, two thousand years ago, led to a Jedi Civil War that _wiped the order out._ More than that, the war destabilized the Old Republic to the brink of collapse. Billions of people died.

“And when the Jedi joined the Clone Wars, they were manipulated by Darth Sidious into a trap that set the Order — and then the entire galaxy — on the same course. The Jedi destroyed themselves, through war and politics,” she said sadly. Kira held up a hand, hastily adding, “I’m not saying they deserved it, but the destruction of the order was repeating a history that the Jedi _knew_ about. We will _not_ make their mistakes.”

Rey looked over at Kira with a newfound respect, if not outright admiration. Kira could feel it, too. It was a  _relief,_ to finally have someone understand.

And her own language did not escape Kira.  _We_ will not make their mistakes. Like it or not, Kira was all in. The missing piece of the puzzle was in place. And that missing piece, it turned out, was a bright-eyed, excited child.

“As long as we’re part of this war, we’re not rebuilding the Order," Rey agreed. "Not like that. Not like everyone wants.” 

“But that doesn’t mean we ignore the Jedi,” Kira continued. “The Code. The texts. Whatever intact temples are out there. And, most importantly of all, the _others_ out there. The ones like us. The ones who don’t even know what they are. And the ones who can be turned from the dark side. They need us, far more than we need them. They need the Rebellion. But we’re not going to _use_ them.”

“And we’re not going to use and abuse the trappings of the Jedi Order,” Rey agreed, looking impressed.

There was silence around the table. Rose, Finn, and Poe took in the impassioned speeches, the perfect synchronicity. They looked between each other with cautious optimism, not quite sure what to make of the display. Kira and Rey, for their part, continued to study each other. Rey was certainly surprising. It seemed all the rumors were, in fact, true. She embodied it all, this junkyard scavenger turned scrappy Rebel hero. But, Kira still could not get over how _young_ she was. Rey must have been the same age Kira was, when she fled Yavin. It broke Kira’s heart. How many more young souls did the galaxy need to consume, in these wars?

Leia and Luke. Sabine and Ezra. Anakin. Ashoka. Now this _girl_ in front of her, too strong and wise. A girl who never got to be a girl at all. 

“Is this how it always is?” Poe finally asked, breaking the silence — breaking the tension between serenity and awe. Poe cocked an eyebrow as he gestured between Kira and Rey with annoyed befuddlement. “The force thing, when there's _two_ of you? This creepy talking like you’re reading each others’ minds thing? ‘Cause it’s creepy.”

“Or have you two just been talking behind our back?” Rose wondered.

Rey’s brow furrowed, and Kira chuckled at their reactions. All eyes turned to her, and Kira just shrugged.

“We’re just on the same page, is all. It’s a relief, to be honest,” Kira admitted. “Finn told me about what you said. About what Luke said. So I was hoping — but, this is good. Really good. Especially because there are plenty of people who _won’t_ see things this way.”

“They _don’t_ see things this way,” Rey pointed out with annoyance. “The Resistance sent me to find Luke. They put all their hopes on him coming back and single handedly destroying the First Order. For that matter, so did I. And now all that hope is transferred to _me._ Because I’m apparently the Last Jedi.”

“Which is total bantha shit. They'll figure it out. I hope,” Kira sighed. She pulled one of her white sabers from the clip at her side, holding it out to Rey. “Speaking of forced destinies and the Jedi, though, you should take this. You a single blade or a dual wielding kinda girl?” 

“Can’t say I’ve ever tried dual wielding,” Rey admitted, staring at Kira in disbelief.

Rey reached across the table, but their hands were still a good two feet apart. Kira opened her palm, letting the lightsaber rest gently there, and she raised an eyebrow. Well, their typical master-apprentice rubbish might as well start somewhere. Rey furrowed her brow, only slightly, and used the force with ease to pull the lightsaber into her grasp.

“Good,” Kira remarked, unsurprised. She pulled the other white saber from her belt and quickly tossed it at Rey, who caught it on instinct, without a single bobble. “Very good. Those are on loan _,_ by the way. Just until we can get you all the components for your own. But we’ll practice. Single and dual wield. Adapting to different combat styles never hurt anyone.”

"Wait, what's happening?" Poe interjected. "Are you gonna train—"

"What about you?” Rey asked, with genuine concern. She held up both lightsabers in confusion.

The Darksaber was affixed to the back of Kira’s belt, in an almost hidden scabbard at the small of her back. It’s hilt was so flat that it was easy enough to disguise there, especially since it hardly _looked_ like a lightsaber to most in the galaxy.

Kira pulled it out now, examining the hilt in the low blue-green light of the situation room’s monitors. Her finger hovered over the ignition switch, lingering there as a lump formed in her throat. The hilt had stayed silent these past two weeks, since slaying Orane Saxon. To ignite it was to choose a path, to take that first step. 

The Darksaber hummed to life. The room fell into mesmerized silence, as Kira simply held the lightsaber, examining its shadowed blade up close. There was nothing like it, not in the whole galaxy. The blade seemed to  _absorb_ light, while its edges shimmered with a blinding white shadow.

“This lightsaber once belonged to my mother. She took it from a Sith lord, more or less. A Sith who conquered Mandalore, who murdered our rightful ruler with it. A good woman. And then that bastard tried to kill my mother. Multiple times. Tried to turn my father to the dark side,” Kira explained in a raspy voice, rage growing with every sentence. Her explanation was _very_ abbreviated. And not entirely true. But it was true enough. “And I took it from a First Order General. A woman I tried to see good in, even after she massacred civilians. A woman I killed, in the end.

“I don’t know if wielding this saber is the right path. Its bloody history — going back a thousand years — its energy may not be something we want here. Maybe it should be destroyed. Maybe we should cast into a dying star.

“So, if I’m going to train Rey, we need to - this needs to - I-”

Kira looked helplessly up at Rey, hoping she understood. The Darksaber hummed in her hands, surrendering to a new master, even as it fed off her fear. The words eluded Kira. She knew, of course, exactly what _had_ to be said. To ask for that aid, however. To actually _ask_ the question. That was another matter, entirely. They stood on a precipice. Or a bridge. They stood at the edge of known history.

“We will rebuild the Jedi,” Rey started, fingers tracing over both white lightsabers, laid out on the table. “But we’re doing it differently this time. With the input of our friends. Not closed of off, but with people like _you_ , helping us."

“So, do we keep the Darksaber, or is it too much of a risk?" Kira asked, turning her intense gaze from Rey to the other three. "Does it paint a political target? Does it have some connection to the dark side of the force we don’t want here?" 

“That’s the first question we’re posing,” Rey said with a smile.

She locked eyes with Kira, who turned off the Darksaber immediately. Kira studied Rey in turn. Her intense and apprehensive frown turned to a warm smile, to mirror Rey's own. The older Rebel daughter realized, in that instant, that their madness could actually _work._ Kira nodded, prompting Rey to continue. 

Rey straightened herself, taking hold of one lightsaber in each hand, and said, “That is the first question we're posing, to this. To you. To the new Jedi Council.”


	14. No Ignorance

Kira paused a moment, looking around her meditation chamber. She decorated it with gifted, colorful scarves and blankets from Ryloth, creating a tapestry and tent. Now, she stood outside her fortress, dressed down and dripping with sweat. She was determined to keep running through lightsaber forms until supper. If Kira was going to teach Rey proper technique — since _Luke Skywalker apparently never bothered_ , which was _cool_ — Kira needed to brush up on everything herself.

So she moved through different sequences, the Darksaber’s blade casting its strange, void-like shadow across the colorful backdrop of her rainbow-woven wall. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Every stroke sought perfect balance. Power and control. Strength and grace.

The Darksaber's weight would take some time to adjust to. It remained unwieldy, compared to Kira's sabers. The burden and challenge would lessen with time. She _hoped_ it would lessen, at any rate.

Kira's good arm cried out through the sequences, and the joint between flesh and metal on her left side was none-too-happy, either. She kept pushing through, determined, until the holoterminal across the room rang out.

When Kira answered, it was Taenara's miniaturized form that stood in front of her. The General was dressed for some kind of event, a delicate jeweled tiara of sorts wrapping around her forehead and lekku. She was even wearing dark eyeliner. Kira wished she could see what that really looked like, beyond the pale blue echo of her favorite Twi'lek.  Kira had never, in her life, seen Vayel Taenara wear _makeup._ The contrast must have made the vibrant violent of Tae's eyes pop.

Tae thickly-accented voice rang out, slightly tinny over the transmission, "Well, I'm missing out."

Her eyes poured over Kira, gliding from the Darksaber to the band of fabric about her chest. She lingered on the still-healing scars across Kira's bare torso.

"Funny, I was gonna say the same thing," Kira said, turning off her saber. Tae raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on the Darksaber's hilt, but she said nothing. It was Kira's turn for questions. "Where the hell are you?"

"A party," Tae said, eyes lighting up. "Wish you were here. I mean, you'd hate it, but still. You really are missing out on some great celebrations down here."

"They have to know—"

"What, that the war's really just beginning?" Tae said, crossing her arms. "Yeah, yeah. Don't be such a downer, love."

Kira frowned, her brows knitting together. "I'm just being honest," she huffed.

Taenara frowned in turn, studying Kira's expression with uncomfortable scrutiny. "What's wrong?" she asked, all the flippancy removed from her raspy voice. "What happened? This about Rebel Command, again?"

"Not exactly," Kira sighed. "Sorry, I don't mean to—"

"What is wrong, my  _ayy_ _?"_ Tae insisted, her face growing bigger in the hologram, as she leaned forward. She closely studied Kira's own visage, on her own terminal, lightyears away.

"I—" Kira brought herself up short, not even sure where to begin. "I  _kinda_ agreed to train Rey in the ways of the Jedi. And to be part of a new Jedi order."

"Well, shit," Taenara said, blinking in befuddlement. "What the hell happened? You were so against it. Against them. How many arguments have we had, about the Jedi? About the Clone Wars?"

"I lost count," Kira sighed. She pulled a chair over from a nearby desk, turning it around so she could straddle the back. Kira crossed her arms over the chair's back, resting her head on her arm. "Trust me, if anyone's surprised by all this, well—"

"Are you going to be mad, if I say I'm proud of you?" Taenara asked, with an apprehensive smile.

Kira shook her head, feeling unbidden tears springing into action. She wiped away at her eyes hastily, giving Taenara a smile, wary but warm.

"Good. Because I'm proud of you," Tae said, her smile growing wider. "This Rey, she needs a teacher. There may be no one better suited in the entire galaxy, my  _ayy._ "

"It's terrifying, realizing that's probably true," Kira sighed. "Just because there's no one left, but still — Well, that's not even why I agreed to it. There's something about her. Something special. Beyond just being strong with the force, there's an energy to her — a light, but in balance. I've never felt anything like it."

"Should I be worried?" Tae teased, one eyebrow shooting up.

"For fuck's — she's a  _kid_ , Vayel," Kira shot back, shaking her head incredulously. "It's scary how much a kid she is, actually."

"Lots of this galaxy's heroes have been kids," Tae pointed out.

"Too many," Kira said, expression hardening. "And too many  _died_ kids."

"Love—"

"Which is why I'm going to make sure Rey — and all the others, for that matter — I'm going to make sure they have a chance. After this war. To actually celebrate the new galaxy they create," Kira said, passion rising in her voice. "We going to do it different, this time. Hell, maybe we'll even get it right."

"With you at the helm, my love, I don't doubt it," Taenara said warmly. "But, you're still young, too, you know. Even if it doesn't feel like it, anymore. So just — my  _ayy—"_

Taenara choked on her words, and Kira continued for her, "Don't worry, love. I'll make it home."

The doorbell to Kira's chambered chimed. She glanced back, waiting for someone to barge in. Fortunately, at least  _one_ person aboard the  _Home One_ understood how doorbells worked.

"Go," Taenara said, turning around for a moment. Kira wondered what she saw there, what other world Tae was looking at. "I'm running late, myself. Just know — I always knew you had this in you, my  _ayy._ Why do you think I chose you?"

"I love you, too," Kira said, fingers hovering over the switches on the holoterminal. 

Taenara hung up first. Perhaps she knew that Kira would not. That, even with all her newfound strength and purpose, she was not quite strong enough to keep saying goodbye.

Kira sighed, standing tall to face whoever would walk through the door. And, when the door to the antechamber opened, Poe's eyebrows shot up as he took in the sight of his adopted big sister. Kira was still glistening with sweat, half naked in the dim, warm light of her chamber. She hated the bright blue-white so standard to the rooms on a Rebel starship. So now, she stood half in shadow. But the shadows did not hide her misty eyes.

“Bad time?” he asked, frowning heavily.

"Nah, I need the break," Kira sighed. "Don't look at me like that, Poe. I was just talking to Tae, is all. And yes, before you ask, everything's fine. I just—"

"Hey, I get it. Having to be apart from the people you love," Poe said, clapping Kira on the shoulder. "Man, you look like you could use a drink. I know I could. Maybe a water first, though."

He walked to the back of the room, grabbing a glass from the refresher. Kira nodded in thanks, and she swiftly downed the entire glass. Poe raised an eyebrow, refilled it, and handed off Kira’s second water. Then, he walked with purpose to the small bar cart in the corner.

“Standard military issue,” he quipped, studying the contents.

“Another perk of being a diplomat,” Kira said, sipping the second water more slowly. It still tasted like heaven, after her training session. “Your idea, I take it? Did you just come here to steal my booze?”

Poe flashed her a mischievous grin, before turning back to the bottles of liquor. The small selection was downright luxurious, compared to the moonshine Ryloth’s troops ran off for the last six months. (Granted, a few privates became pretty damn good at making that moonshine. Kira reckoned they could really make something out of a legitimate distillery, at the war's end.)

“Ooh, a gift from Clan Ordo,” Poe said, holding up a very expensive-looking bottle of very purple liquid. “Don’t worry, everything was tested for poison.”

“Good. I doubt they're my biggest fans," Kira said, examining the bottle. "Oh man, I’ve actually heard of this stuff. Had a glass, once. Nar Shaddaa, I think. It’s pretty damn good."

“Do I want to know why someone bought you a glass of very expensive liquor on a smuggler’s moon?” Poe asked warily, pouring Kira a tumbler.

“Relax, I was the one hunting him,” Kira said, swirling the translucent lilac liquor about in her glass. She looked up to see Poe's amused expression. "Not like that! Head out of the gutter!”

Poe flashed another impish smile, but there was something disingenuous about it. For a second, Poe looked like he was falling. Being swallowed up by some dark tide. He tried to push it down, raising his glass for a toast.

Kira held back her own glass and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Poe pouted, lowering his glass. "I hate when you do that," he said dryly.

“That wasn’t a Jedi thing-”

“That was absolutely some mind reading bantha sh-”

“No, you gave me those sad lothcat eyes and-”

“Stay out of my-”

“What’s wrong?” Kira repeated, more forcefully this time. “I’m out of your head. I don’t know even what’s wrong. See?”

“I don’t believe you,” Poe grumbled. He glared at Kira for a moment, before looking down to his glass. He stared there, swirling the liquid about as if it could speak to him. “I just — you reminded me. About all the time we missed. That’s all. That’s all it was. All the- I don’t know. All the-”

“Stories,” Kira finished, tumbling her own drink idly between her hands. Her bronze-plated fingers gave little _clink clink clinks_ with every light touch upon the glass. “All the stories we don’t even _know_ to tell. And all the ones we weren’t there for. And it’s hard to even know where to start.”

“Some days — a lot of days — I wish I went with you,” Poe admitted. "I wish you'd come. That you'd gotten me. Or at least—"

 _Said goodbye._ Kira swallowed hard, ignoring the implication as Poe's words evaporated, his sentence hanging heavily in the air. 

“I don’t,” Kira said bluntly. “You were just a kid, Poe. I would have loved it, don’t get me wrong. The two of us, against the galaxy. But it was _scary_ , Poe. Dangerous. I couldn’t have protected you. There were so many people I failed to — and, besides, you were needed elsewhere.”

“You don’t have to save everyone all the time, you know,” Poe said, smiling sadly.

“Says who?” Kira asked matter-of-factly, raising her glass. “I’m a Jedi now, or something, remember? That’s what we do. Just like you Rebels. We make trouble. Can’t help ourselves. So, a toast. To making new stories. Together. To getting into trouble, to saving people. _Together._ ”

“I’ll drink to that,” Poe said, smiling kindly, eyes crinkled as their glasses clinked.

Again, for a painful moment, Kira saw the _age_ in him. The streaks of gray in Poe's hair, the wrinkles about his eyes. His thirty-plus years were hard earned and well worn. And yet, somehow, Kira was still often mistaken for a teenager. It was a gift from her mother. Kira's every memory of Sabine Wren was of the same, young face — from quiet nights on Krownest to battle on Mandalore. Somehow, that false youth made Kira feel that everyone else was passing her by. That the galaxy had passed by Kira and her mother, both.

For a while, the two children of Yavin just drank. They told inconsequential stories. They gossiped about different members of the ship's crew. Caught up on gossip from the Rebellion and Rylothian militaries. Poe pried more about Tae, because _of course_ he did. He tried to offer some romantic advice of a rather _personal_ nature, because _of course_ he did.

Kira knew plenty about Twi'lek biology,  _thank you very much._

They found some music on the holonet and danced, utterly freely and ridiculously, about the room. It was just like when they were kids, pregaming before sneaking out of the house, back on Yavin.

The song on on the holonet station changed to a slow, romantic tune Kira did not recognize. Something from about ten years back, Poe informed her. That was what happened, when you spent your twenties wandering the Outer Rim alone. Everything else — everyone else — just kept going. 

Kira made to sit back down on the bed, but Poe pulled her back to the room's center. He twirled her about by the hand.

“Careful!” she laughed. “I might be a little too tipsy for that.”

“What, you can’t use the force to help you?” Poe quipped, pulling Kira close.

They fell into an easy slow, swaying step, moving around the room in a familiar ballroom dance. Kira had absolutely no idea where the renegade pilot learned how to dance. Kira was a spy. She survived by crashing enough fancy parties to figure this rubbish out. (And, okay, she secretly really enjoyed it.) But _Poe Dameron?_

“General Organa taught me,” Poe admitted, seeing the shocked confusion on Kira’s face. “There was a party. A medal ceremony. And I was _hopeless._ ”

“She taught you well,” Kira observed.

“That she did,” Poe said heavily, taking one of Kira’s hands in his own.

They stayed like that a while. The station's tone changed, more slow, sad ballads reverberating off the walls. Kira’s eyelids started to grow heavy, from both intoxication and pure exhaustion. She did, however, have one pressing question. And now, with her barriers breaking down, it came tumbling out.

“You voted for me to keep the Darksaber. I don’t understand,” she asked.

And it was a question. A vulnerable — almost betrayed — question.

Poe stopped moving, holding Kira locked in place.

“You know why, Key.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Kira admitted, looking him straight in the eyes. Poe seemed genuinely surprised by her line of questioning. “You of all people understand every reason why I should not have that blade.”

“Well, apparently I trust you. Way more than you trust yourself,” Poe realized, stepping backward.

He still kept one hand on Kira’s waist. His other hand fidgeted, fingers intertwining restlessly with hers.

“What happened to you, out there? When you were on your own?” he asked.

“You already know. You’ve already seen,” Kira said, studying him. “You were there. You saw the aftermath of that battle. You saw what I’ve become to survive. You saw what I did to Saxon. I’ve grown into _everything_ I tried to run away from, Poe. And I have to wonder — maybe the _last_ thing the Rebellion needs is for me to pass that on. To the Rebels. To the Jedi. To _Rey._

“And having the Darksaber, the bloody _tradition_ it stands for-”

“All I saw,” Poe interrupted, pulling Kira closer to him, “on the security footage — and everything out on the holonet — during that battle, was a great warrior who offered surrender. Who offered a compelling argument for surrender _multiple times._ Who offered mercy. And only  _then_ did she pull the trigger.

“I saw a Jedi, Key.”

Kira let go of Poe's hand, blinking at him. The tears returned to her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. Before Kira could react — before she could tell Poe how  _wrong_ he was — he pulled her into a fierce hug. Kira tucked her face into his shoulder, shaking her head all the while.

“I hope you’re right,” she mumbled. "For once, I hope you win this one."

Poe squeezed tighter, so tightly it was almost painful. “I voted for you to keep it because _I know who you are._ I know what I saw,” he insisted. “Even if you can’t see it yet. But you will. You’ll see what has to be done — what you must become — when you’re ready.

"No matter what happened in the past. No matter what you had to do to survive. It all led you here. To this moment. To this war.  _To us._ From what I see, it made you someone I can look up to. That I  _do_ look up to, big sister."

Kira pulled away, taking Poe's face in her hands. He looked at her earnestly, all his cards laid out on the table. Kira knew he meant it. Every word. And not just because Poe was a rather terrible liar.

"I trust you," Poe insisted. "I know you'll figure it out. I know you'll trust yourself. One day."


	15. Only Knowledge

“What’s wrong?”

Rey looked over her shoulder, both hands pulling the hood of her tattered, dark brown cloak. She pulled it as low over her face as was possible.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” Kira groaned.

A wave of nausea hit her, twisting through her gut. A split second of dizziness surged though Kira's skull, almost like being blasted by a stun ray, right before everything went black. Except the blaster in question was the past — and all the burned bridges along that path.

For his part, Chewbacca only roared impatiently and walked off. He blended  _almost_ seamlessly into the bustling crowd of refugees and criminals, even as he towered a foot above most of them.

“Yeah, we are friends!” Kira responded to him, shouting over the din. She jogged after the wookie, Rey right at her side. “It’s just — you’ll see. She’s not exactly nice to me, Chewie.”

Nar Shaddaa teemed with life, with more refugees and smugglers and _stormtroopers_ than Kira had ever seen. The Hutts finally threw in with the First Order, and now their infamous, industrial moon — normally a chaotic  _but technically neutral_  staging ground for all kinds of criminal organizations — was under the Supreme Leader’s boot.

It was a _very_ odd place for their contact to insist upon meeting three Rebellion leaders. Perhaps Chewie could fly under the radar, unless the trio ran into some of his kin. But, Rey and Kira were exposed as they walked, hackles raised, through the crowds. Normally, there was something oddly soothing about Nar Shaddaa. One could go with the flow of life, like a fallen leaf in a river. One could let go, and see where the currents took her. Now, however, there was too much at stake.

It was necessary, then, that Rey and Kira blend in. Rey wore her ragged, hooded cloak, keeping a wound beige scarf around her lower face. And Kira hid her armor beneath layers of bland, tattered sweaters and baggy trousers. She wrapped an overly large scarf about her neck, pulled up to the bridge of her nose. Their hidden faces were hardly unusual, on Nar Shaddaa. Plenty of people came to the moon to hide.

The trio wound through the alleyways of the upper city, a hostile painting of drab gray concrete and harsh neon advertisements. They navigated as swiftly as they could through the suffocating masses of people in the main market square. If not for the First Order presence, the port city would make a _perfect,_ if depressing, hiding spot. Who would expect the  _goody-two-shoes_ Rebellion to make camp  _here_?

“Why don’t you want to see her?” Rey called out, shoving through the crowd. Her narrowed eyes betrayed her annoyance.

Kira gave up on sticking together any other way, and she grabbed hold of Rey’s arm. The young Jedi seemed shocked, at first, but she did not pull away.

“Look, apparently she’s different with you,” Kira tried to explain. “With me, she’s either very helpful and wonderful and everything. Or, she can be terrible and cryptic and a pain in the ass. And I _don’t_ like that she wanted to meet here. It’s too dangerous. You’re too exposed.”

“I appreciate it, but I can handle myself,” Rey insisted, shooting Kira some side eye.

“If we’re recognized-”

Chewbacca roared again, pointing down a short alleyway. A single, unassuming door stood at the end. Kira never needed to even read the address written across the top. This was the place. She could _feel_ their target inside, waiting impatiently. Waiting with purpose and an undercurrent of malice, it's target not too difficult to place.

“Well, shit. Cryptic and pain in the ass it is,” Kira sighed.

She entered the alley and took a deep breath. Soot filled the air, and her lungs, but there was at least _room_ to breathe, away from the crowds. Then, with a heavy sigh, Kira pushed open the front door. Inside was a cramped and very unassuming droid-part shop. And, at the back was a small woman, sitting at the counter.

“Hi, Maz.”

The short, orange-skinned, thousand-year-old alien squinted at Kira, pulling down her spectacles in an unnecessary show. She popped off her seat, disappearing for a few minutes. Chewbacca and Rey stepped into the shop, and Chewie had the good sense to lock the door. He even switched on the “ _We’re closed!”_ sign.

Maz Kanata suddenly appeared from their left flank, almost making Kira jump. _Almost._

The old woman looked up at Chewbacca, towering over her, with a wide grin. “It’s been too long, you old Wookie,” she said.

He gave a happy roar and scooped the old bat into a hug. Kira could not help raising an eyebrow. Chewie mentioned knowing Maz quite well. But Kira never, in all her years, would have imagined the pirate queen would ever _let_ _someone_ _pick her up._

Over Chewie’s shoulder, Maz called out to Rey, “It’s good to see you, too, dear. I’ve heard good things. Interesting things.”

And then, once Maz was planted back on two feet, she turned swiftly and walked back to the counter. Kira pursed her lips together in a tight, unsurprised smile.

Rey raised an eyebrow in Kira's direction, not sure whether to be amused or confused. “I, wait-”

Kira shook her head, interrupting Rey’s stuttering.

“Nice to see you, too. Great place you’ve going here, grannie,” Kira deadpanned.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kira followed after Maz, walking down a narrow aisle. Tall shelves were piled high on both sides, featuring all kinds of junk. Or, mostly junk. Kira's gaze did indeed fall on a couple of interesting pieces. There were the makings of a few nice upgrades for BB-8 or Artoo.

They followed Maz back room, where she pressed a hidden button with a mischievously conspiratorial grin over her shoulder. A worn ottoman swung aside with the grinding of metal, revealing a narrow circular hatch and a short ladder.

Kira, Rey, and Chewie all hurried after Maz, down into the secret bunker. Kira smiled at the sight. _This_ was what she would expect, from the base of the famed Maz Kanata. The walls were decorated with trophies — a special collection of saved trinkets from Takodana, Kira expected — and colorful banners. Many of the insignia belonged to nations and peoples that died out hundreds of years ago. And, of course, there was a rather well-stocked looking bar at the back of the sizable room.

The ceiling, however, was _quite_ low. Kira almost had to duck to keep her head from bouncing across the ceiling. Chewie, for his part, stooped over heavily before quickly taking a seat on a nearby, plush couch. 

The hatch above their heads closed, and Kira finally asked, “What did I do this time, Kanata?”

Without a word, Maz turned on a large holoprojection of some low-resolution recording. Kira recognized the room immediately. It was the command room, at the top of the Beast. It was the day of the battle, after Orane Saxon’s defeat. But the recording was not from a security camera. Nor did it look high-quality enough to have originated from a First Order probe droid.

“What is-”

Maz loudly hushed Kira. Kanata added a dramatic hand gesture as she walked past, to the bar. The old woman was not even watching the recording. This was all for Kira’s benefit.

The recording shook and bobbed, centering on Finn and Kira, holding each other against a far wall. Kira realized the recording must be from a soldier, taken from a personal device. Then, Tae was there. She slapped Kira across the face. They spoke in hushed whispers. And then, gently, Kira kissed Taenara.

It was _awkward_ , to actually see it. Tae was right. They certainly needed some practice.

“Nine months,” Maz scolded, flicking off the recording. “Nine months on Ryloth. And never _once_ do you mention a lover.”

“That’s what this is about? For the love of-” Kira protested loudly, interrupted by tumbler of bright green liquid being forced in her hand.

“Yes, yes, she was your superior officer, and you weren’t _really_ together,” Maz said, practically rolling her eyes. “Finn told me.”

“Finn? Maz! I cannot believe you’ve been talking about my personal life with _Finn_ behind my-”

“But I remember,” Maz continued, as if Kira never spoke a word, “giving _specific_ instructions. If you ever _finally_ found someone to settle down with, you were supposed to call.”

It was almost impossible to stay angry with Maz, when she looked up with those small, kind eyes. When her voice did that _thing,_ all grandmotherly affection. When _this_ was what the old bat was so concerned over. Kira looked over for _help_ to Rey and Chewie. The wookie, however, was already over at the bar. And Rey was having a rather difficult time suppressing all evidence of her amusement.

Kira sighed and knelt down, coming to eye level with Maz. “This is _me_ we’re talking about, Maz,” she said. “I didn’t even know, not really, until that moment. Definitely didn’t know she felt the same way. I swear to you.”

Maz looked at her with absolute pity. “You are your father’s daughter,” she sighed, giving Kira two quick slaps on the cheek. Maz looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “But you’d better treat this Vayel right. I like her.”

Kira smiled softly and said, “Me, too.”

With _that_ out of the way, the four of them got to catching up on other things, drinks in hand. Maz wanted a full rundown of the Battle of the Beast. She wanted to know more about Rey’s Jedi training. She was very intrigued by their new, unorthodox "Jedi Council." Though, of course, Maz was infuriatingly tight-lipped with any recommendations, herself. Something about it not being her place. Which was utter bantha shit. Instead, Maz pivoted gracefully to other topics. She wanted to know how the Falcon was faring, if they needed any repairs while they were planetside.

And, of course, Maz wanted to know _why_ the Rebellion contacted her, this time _._

Chewie pulled the satchel off of his shoulder, seeming rather happy to be rid of the weight. They spread the ancient Jedi texts — the ones in long-dead languages no expert, thus far, even _recognized_ — atop a solid wooden table. Kira watched Kanata’s eyes light up, as she immediately pulled on her spectacles and began adjusting the lenses. If nothing else, the treasure hunter would _surely_ be glad for the chance to see such rare artifacts.

Maz batted their hands away immediately, forcing everyone to take a couple steps back. “Be careful with these,” she scolded. “Where did you-”

“Luke,” Rey explained, mourning in her voice.

A look of understanding passed between Rey and Maz. Kanata reached over and squeezed Rey’s hand, nodding in a sagely manner. Then, the moment passed, and Maz was back to carefully examining the texts. She took a full five minutes to even _open_ one. And, when she did, Kanata’s eyes darted excitedly over the writing.

“I can read it, if that’s what you want to know,” she stated. “But this is going to take a long time. A lot of work. Hours and hours of grueling-”

“What do you want, Maz?” Rey asked with an amused half-smile.

“Well, I’ll need Chewie’s help here, obviously,” Maz stated, as if that made _any_ sense. “And then I’m calling in a favor with _you._ Walk with me.”

Maz locked eyes with Kira, and a sense of intense dread overtook her. Not a fear of evil or darkness, of great and galaxy-shattering ill tidings. No, this was a vision of something very _uncomfortable_ waiting in Kira’s near future. Some torture Maz would take great pleasure in inflicting.

With a deep breath, Kira stood and followed. To her surprise, one of the winding halls out of the room led, in fact, to a narrow, exposed walkway overlooking the docks. Kira realized Maz must have a private hangar nearby. The railing was _awfully_ low, designed to fit Maz’s tastes, and Kira kept her back flush against the wall.

“You would probably survive the fall,” Maz deadpanned, looking out to the horizon. Kira narrowed her eyes at the back of Maz’s head, as the old woman continued, “So you came here, with Rey. Do you really intend to come and go, without _seeing_ this place?”

“There are other places Rey can train. Places where she won’t be recognized by thousands of stormtroopers and First Order sympathizers,” Kira explained.

“I’m not talking about Rey’s training,” Maz said. “I’m talking about yours. Or do you really not know what you are yet? _Who_ you are? The roll you have to play now?”

“You make it sound like I have no choice,” Kira observed. "And we've been over this crackpot theory of—"

“Of course you have a choice,” Maz said, turning around. "And it's hardly a theory, at this point."

Maz looked at Kira with pity and sorrow. With the regret of an old woman who could see fate itself, but who could not alter it. Kira knelt down beside the old woman, coming face to face with her. A gust of wind came across the walkway, pushing off Kira’s hood, exposing her green hair and scarred face.

“Two thousand years ago, the Exile came here," Maz started, taking Kira's mechanical arm in both hands. "The Jedi who cut herself off from the Force, after the massacre at Malachor. In those days, no one even believed it possible. The Jedi council _feared_ her. Feared what she stood for. And what happened then _still_ echoes across the surface of Nar Shaddaa. The Exile started rebuilding the Order _here._ The last Jedi of that time — the _new_ Jedi — started to awaken and work together _here._

“ _Listen to her._ That is the lesson. That is the favor.”

Kira shook her head, shutting her eyes against her doubt. And her fear. The crazy old bat.  _Of course_ this had to do with some great awakening, two thousand years ago. Kira wondered how long Maz waited, for this moment. For everything — all Maz's teachings and stories and cryptic ramblings about the fate-touched — to come together.

“You could just _take_ me to the force sensitive person — or persons — you’ve already found here," Kira said bluntly.

“Where is the fun in that, my dear firefly?” Maz laughed, again slapping her lightly across the cheek two times. “Besides, Chewie and I have a lot of work to do here. This is your destiny, my child. You and the girl. So get moving.”


	16. No Chaos

“I didn’t realize you two had such history,” Rey remarked, as she followed alongside Kira.

The duo arrived at one of the massive ventilation shafts near the market. Here, they really could _breathe,_ even with the smell. The crowd thinned out enough, giving a moment's peace amidst the chaos. Both women leaned against the shaky-looking railing, peering down into the depths of Nar Shaddaa. Below, the moon teemed with factories and nightclubs and casinos. With, lower still, refugee sectors made of repurposed storage decks. The displaced — hailing from every corner of the galaxy, from Hosnian Prime to Hays Minor — were living out of shoddy metal cargo containers.

Kira sighed, running a gloved finger over the rail. It came away covered with soot.

“I ended up on Takodana _years_ ago. Kind of an accident, to be honest,” she explained. “Practically crashed my ship, after running into some Purrgil. Found Maz’s Castle and, well, it’s _Maz._ She recognized me well enough. May not have known my name or my parents — though she figured that out pretty damn quick — but she knew I was running. She guessed well enough at _who_ I was running from.

“So Maz offered me a job. Free room and board. Decent pay, too, in exchange for doing odd jobs around the Castle. I tended the bar. Cleaned tables. Helped work on ships. Even sang, for a while. Kept-”

“Wait, you sang?”

Rey looked over at Kira with amused curiosity. Even through the low hood and tightly wound scarf, her surprised delight was absolutely apparent.

“In some gorgeous costumes and everything. Maybe if you’re really, really good, _padawan,_ I’ll teach you a song or two,” Kira admitted, hint of laughter in her voice. She gestured for Rey to come closer, so they could speak frankly without fear of prying ears. “ _Anyway,_ what Maz _really_ taught me was how to keep an ear to the ground. To pay attention to everyone coming through. And, through those people — from the highest ranking officials to the apparent nobodies — how to pay attention to galaxy itself.

“I'd — Well, I cut myself off from the force. I thought I had to. To protect myself. Kinda like Skywalker did. Maz helped me see another way. She taught me to _listen_. To life and death. Pain and love. To the changes and echoes and ripples, all across the galaxy. 

“And, in all of that, she became family. Kicked me out, after a while. Like a bird out of the nest. I haven’t seen her in years,” Kira said, her voice growing quiet. Rey had to lean even closer to keep listening. “Just got the rare, occasional call. Or a coded message through mutual friends. So, that's the answer to your question. I guess. That’s why we’re _like that._ ”

Rey stared incredulously at Kira. She shook her head in disbelief and said, “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being jealous. You had so many people to help you, over the years. You found  _family,_  over and over again."

“This was — I was — how old was I?” Kira wondered aloud. The past sixteen years all blended together, the timeline jumbling about in her head. “Older than you, at any rate. Sometimes we have to wait, a very long while, for the right people to come to us. More often, we have to seek them out. Besides, I was still alone, most of the time. My story is about  _losing_ as much family as anything, dear.”

“I only meant-”

“I know,” Kira said, clapping a hand affectionately on Rey’s shoulder. “And you’re not wrong. After what you went through on Jakku, I get it. But that’s — well, how about we table that for later? Maz is absolutely full of it. She can translate those texts in a flash. Hell, she's probably already done. So I want us out of here, as fast as possible. But Maz wants me to  _do something,_ first.

“That's why we're out here. I have a lesson for you," Kira said, removing her hand from Rey. She turned back to the ventilation shaft, gesturing dramatically. "Close your eyes. _Listen_ to Nar Shaddaa. _Use all of your senses._ What do you hear, Rey?”

The girl reached out, gripping onto the rail with both gloved hands. She was silent a long while, as Kira followed the twists of her heart. Rey plunged in, head first, rushing through the crushing currents of life on Nar Shaddaa. She found the avarice and apathy of its wealthier criminals. She found the calculating cruelty of its politicians. She found the crushing desperation of its gangs. And, beneath it all, holding up the very foundations of Nar Shaddaa — crushed beneath the Hutt moon’s weight — were the refugees, new and old.

Rey gasped. “I feel — I _hear_ pain,” she whispered.

She tried to pull away. She tried to dissociate from the Force, like a child throwing their hands over their ears. She physically recoiled back from the railing.

Kira moved behind her, both hands holding Rey firmly in place. Rey tried to shake her off in frustration.

“Don’t run,” Kira said gently. “Breathe. You feel their pain. It scares you. That's not wrong. But you _have_ to feel it. You have to  _understand_  it.”

“The darkness-”

“Pain is not the dark side,” Kira said, repeating what her own Master had said, many years ago. “Some pain comes of cowardice or avarice; this is true. Pain is often caused by cruelty and anger and hate. It can be _caused_ by the dark side. But pain's a reaction. It's a distress call. It's what happens when we're grasping for the light. W _hy_ are they in pain, Rey? Follow the currents of the Force.”

Kira listened, eyes closed, alongside her pupil. The soot-covered towers and flashing neon advertisements went dark. The shouts and engines and distant blaster fire of Nar Shaddaa faded away. Kira felt her grime-caked boots, rooted into the cement below. She felt the light currents of air that flitted past with every body and droid and speeder.

And, together, Kira and Rey truly heard and saw Nar Shaddaa, for the first time since their arrival.

They watched a mother mourning at the makeshift shrine of photographs and drawings and letters, where refugees sought any news of loved ones. _What happened to my baby? She was right behind me. On the shuttle._

They listened to a nurse, pulling a sheet over the still body of a young woman. Tears streamed down his face as an infant wailed. _I’ll keep our baby safe. I promise._

Kira and Rey, together, watched a swoop gang boss, finishing repairs on his brother’s old bike. His hands moved with practiced grace. He was so solid, as if he stood right in front of them, in the flesh. The grizzled ex-assassin looked up, watching a familiar urchin get food from a shelter kitchen. His shelter, named in his brother’s honor. The old man smiled, his chest tightening. The sorrow and pride and nostalgia all balled into a tangled and beautiful mess.

And then, there was blaster fire. It ricocheted through every vision like a thunderclap. Kira tightened her hold on Rey’s shoulders, delving deeper. Intense fear welled in Kira's chest. They traced the ripples — no, they traced great and violent waves — in the water, searching for the source. They followed the echoes, racing through the alleyways of Nar Shaddaa, until blaster fire drowned out _everything_ else.

They watched a bounty hunter fire a successful shot, his blaster set to stun. His prey went down, a different blaster hanging limply from the fallen togruta boy’s grasp. Immediately, the bounty hunter and his partner went for their prey, guard still up. And a cry went up through the Force, blasting through Nar Shaddaa’s violently loud life force like a great storm.

Kira and Rey pulled back in tandem, both of them gasping for breath in the aftermath. Kira ran up to the railing, looking down over the edge, and Rey followed suit next to her. The boy was down there. Somewhere. He was in danger. Kira was so _tempted_ to pull a bloody Kenobi and plunge into the abyss.

“There’s a lift,” Kira gasped, voice hoarse, as she pointed in the right direction. “Express. Come on!”

They both sprinted over, neither speaking a word. Rey and Kira practically fell into the lift — Kira probably paid more than double the toll, in her haste — and they collided with a crush of bodies. They held hands, eyes locked straight ahead. Rey threatened to cut off circulation to Kira’s fingers. Just as Kira was thinking of switching hands, and letting Rey work her frustrations and anxieties out on metal instead, the lift door opened.

They careened out, and Kira pulled Rey behind her without looking back.

“Wait, they were that way!” Rey called out, trying to pull Kira to a stop. She pointed desperately down a different alley.

“But they’re not anymore! I know this moon, okay?” Kira called out harshly, struggling to pull Rey onward. She stopped for only a moment — Rey was _really freaking strong,_ after all — and locked eyes with her student. “Just trust me.”

Rey nodded, brow furrowed, and followed Kira once more. The women sprinted toward the docks, lungs burning. 

So this was Maz’s lesson. Kira now understood why they were on Nar Shaddaa. She saw everything with clarity and purpose.

And Kira saw two bounty hunters, loading a boy onto their ship. She knew exactly where they were. She knew exactly where they were going to be. She saw the best path to get there, through the winding back alleyways. Around every First Order checkpoint.

So, when Kira and Rey arrived at the quadjumper parked at the docks, the bounty hunters had not yet arrived. The boy was not yet on their ship. There was a moment, if only a moment, to catch their breath. There was a moment to change fate.

“Blasters only, if you can help it,” Kira said, between labored, sharp inhales. “And let me do the talking.”

“I can-”

“ _Let me do the talking._ ”

“There!”

Two heavily armored and armed figures appeared around the corner. One was decked out in mismatched Outer Rim regalia, all done up in a surprisingly fetching burgundy paint job. The other was, to Kira’s dismay, distinctively Mandalorian. He even had a helmet almost _identical_ to the one Kira lost, years ago on Mandalore. Both carried modded blaster repeaters over their backs, as well as _at least_ two pistols. And the Mandalorian had a togruta teenager — perhaps fifteen years of age — slung in a fireman’s carry over his shoulders.

Kira waved Rey over to nearby cargo crates, motioning for her to hide. She took a deep, calming breath, ensuring her armor was still well-hidden beneath all the layers of hand-me-down sweaters. She pulled out her pistol and stepped in front of the quadjumper, assuming a powerful stance. She channeled Ryloth and the Battle of the Beast.

“Well, what the fuck do we have here?” the Mandalorian asked. “Move, girl, or you will be moved.”

“That’s my property you’ve got there, _boy,_ ” Kira shot back. “And I don’t take kindly to thieving.”

When the bastards woke up —  _if_ they woke up — they would hopefully believe they lost to a fellow bounty hunter. It was as good a cover as any.

The hunter next to the Mandalorian had a good chuckle. “ _Your_ property?” he asked. “Sorry. You snooze, you lose, newbie.”

“Newbie?” Kira studied them up and down, one eyebrow raised. “Just try to test that theory, Red."

“Cute. Nice try. But we got here first. The contract’s ours,” the hunter said, pulling both pistols from his hip. “Tell you what, you’ve got spunk, kid. So I’ll give you one shot to _get lost._ ”

Kira took a deep breath and looked back at him, focusing. She was never very good as this bit.

“You will set the boy down. Gently. You will turn around. You will leave. And you will forget you saw either of us,” Kira commanded.

The bounty hunter flicked the safety switch on his pistols. Shit.

“You will set the boy down,” Rey called out.

She stood behind both hunters, hand on her still-holstered pistol. She pulled down her scarf, to speak more clearly over the hum of engines. Both hunters turned immediately to look at Rey, to examine the new piece on the board with surprise.

“You will _gently_ set the boy down,” Rey repeated calmly. “You will leave the docks. You will forget that you saw the three of us.”

Kira was not even surprised when the Mandalorian _gently_ set the unconscious togruta on the ground, making sure his head never smacked against the pavement. Both bounty hunters walked calmly around Rey, out of sight. The two women stood there a long while, tersely watching the entrance to the docking platform. Kira nervously kept looking to the boy on the floor, gripping her blaster so tightly her fingers began to cramp.

Finally, after several minutes, Kira felt it was safe to exhale.

“That was amazing,” she remarked. “I mean, like, we can check mind tricks off your curricula. Where did you even learn to _do_ that?”

“I don’t know,” Rey admitted. “The first time I ever used the force, it was to do that. I got a guard to release me from my restraints, back on Starkiller Base. I’d heard the stories about Jedi, and, well—”

Rey trailed off sheepishly, blushing a little under Kira’s look of intense admiration.

“I’ve  _never_ been able to do that,” Kira admitted. “Not under pressure, anyway. You’re — that was — I'm not even mad that you disobeyed me."

" _Disobeyed?_ " Rey gasped. It was hard to tell, under the hood, but Kira was pretty damn sure Rey cocked an eyebrow. "I think you're taking the padawan joke a little too—"

"Who the fuck are you?"

Both women looked down with shock. The togruta boy was stirring on the ground. He stared up in utter confusion, reaching for a blaster than wasn’t there, looking ready to bolt.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” Kira said, putting her hands up. She looked sidelong at her blaster, still in her hand, and winced. “So, this probably looks super bad, but-”

“Whelp, I’m dead,” the boy deadpanned, holding his hands in front of his face. He examined them, as if trying to look through them. “Only good explanation.”

Both women blurted out in unison, “Sorry?”

“I have to be dead,” the boy explained matter-of-factly, getting more comfortable as he lay back down. He spread out his limbs, staring blankly up at both women. “I mean, I was caught in a firefight with these two crazy people that came out of nowhere. I don’t know what they wanted, but it wasn’t good. I mean, sure I’ve made _a lot_ of people mad. But no one that well armed. Ever. I'm not stupid. And then I woke up here. And you two aren’t making any sense. And I'm pretty sure _you're_ Rey. _The Rey."_

The togruta boy pointed to her, eyes wide in disbelief and awe in his voice. Kira looked up at Rey, with her lower face now uncovered.  _Most_ people would still not recognize her, at a glance. 

"So I’m dead, right?" the boy continued, closing his eyes. "Ori was right, and that whole torture-after-death-to-save-your-soul bit is real. And I’m dead. I haven’t actually worked out how this is torture, yet. I mean, this is more like some of the good dreams I have but — but I’m smarter than I look. So I'll figure it out. I promise.”

Rey blushed, and Kira had to fight to contain her laughter. The hyperactive boy in front of them was kind of cute. In a teenage asshole sort of way. 

Kira turned back to him, more closely studying the boy. The blue-gray montrals atop his head were still quite small, giving away his age, even as his slate-gray eyes looked like the eyes of a much older child. His skin was a vibrant, cheery red — with brilliant, geometric white markings — even beneath the soot and scars that told of many months spent in the industrial sectors of Nar Shaddaa.

There was something in the rather clever boy that _shone_ , even through the misery that clouded around him. And Kira thought it was more than just the Force, strong as it was with the boy.

“What’s your name?” Rey asked.

The boy’s brow furrowed, and he opened his eyes to stare at her. He was apparently debating whether or not to answer an apparition, a figment of some dream or afterlife.

After a few seconds, he did reply, “Caleb.”

Kira blinked in surprise, her jaw falling open.

“What?” the boy — no,  _Caleb_ — asked, taking in Kira's reaction.

“I just knew — There was an extraordinary Jedi, once, born to that name,” Kira explained, voice hushed. “He was a great friend of my parents. Practically raised my dad.”

“Psh, yeah, right. Your parents were friends with-”

Caleb came up short, his focus snapping back to Rey. Kira could see all the gears turning in his mind, as he stared at one most famous Jedi of the last century. At least a part of him believed it, now. A part of young Caleb believed _the_ Rey was standing in front of him. On Nar Shaddaa. That _the_ Rey  _saved_ him. And if _that_ was possible, then why not the rest of it?

“What - what happened?” he asked honestly, keeping his attention focused on Rey.

“You’re in danger,” Rey explained, holding out a hand to help him up. “We may not have a lot of time. We have to leave his place. You should come with us.”

“You mean this moon. You mean Nar Shaddaa,” Caleb said, staring blankly at her hand.

Rey thrust her hand out a little further, urgently and earnestly. She insisted, “I know it’s your home. Trust me, I understand. But if there’s people here you care about, we can help them. The Rebellion can protect them. They can come with us."

“No, that’s not — that’s not why I’m freaking out,” Caleb explained, turning his attention to Kira.

“You don’t actually believe it,” Kira guessed. Or, really, it was not a guess at all. “That all those daydreams could come true. That someone would swoop down from the stars, offer you a hand, and give you a ride out of here.”

“And with Rebels, to boot,” he said, awed.

Rey looked between the two of them, saddened and a little confused. Kira bit back an urge to say something smart about explaining it when Rey was older. After all, how could Rey understand desperately  _wanting_ to leave your home?

“Kid, you have no idea. But we have to get moving,” Kira said, motioning to Rey’s hand with a tilt of her chin. “So, if you _do_ have anyone or anything you wanna bring along, now’s the time to speak up.”

Caleb’s eyes widened, and he fumbled to take Rey’s hand. She helped him up, and he wobbled a little, taking stock of solid ground.

“Then my friends can come? I have two friends. I had more, but, well—”

When the boy trailed off, his eyes casting to the floor, Kira offered, “Nar Shaddaa’s a real shutta?”

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed, with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Come on, it’s not far.”

He lead them through back alleys, expertly navigating around the checkpoints, until the trio stood in a long-abandoned region of the docks. Caleb pointed around the corner, and Kira held him back by the shoulder. The kid was feisty, all earnest bravery and sharp wit. He was _her_ , back before war came storming down the front door. She just hoped they could _preserve_ that. She just hoped it would not get Caleb killed.

Blaster in hand, Rey scouted ahead. A few moments later, she came back with the all clear. Caleb sprinted ahead, pointing to an abandoned-looking light freighter that was, apparently, his house. They ran across a narrow, railless walkway to the unused and probably very dangerous docking platform, perched precariously many stories above solid ground.

And Kira looked up.

She stopped, dead in her tracks as the wind pulled at her scarves and sweaters. The gusts revealed peeks of pink armor and a face emblazoned, surely, across many wanted posters. A face that echoed two others. Two  _other_ faces that were plastered, bounty costs below them, throughout the Empire. A long, long time ago.

If the Force really was sentient, it could sure be a cruel bastard indeed.

There, perched on the platform, was the ship Kira practically spent every waking hour of her early twenties aboard. Just as her parents spent most of their teenage years there, walking the same halls. Eating at the same tables. Sleeping in the same bunks.

It was the ship that saved Kira from the First Order. The ship that lead her to Ashoka Tano. The ship she believed lost forever, after a particularly disastrous run in with those Imperial wannabe bastards.

The Ghost.


	17. Only Harmony

Kira stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. Her hand went limp, the blaster nearly sliding from her grasp. Her pale gray cloak billowed dramatically, buffeted by the winds that howled across the narrow walkway, threatening to throw any unwary trespassers into the shadowy depths below. Up above, Nar Shaddaa was all glitzy advertisements and vibrant marketplaces. The Undercity, however, showed the _real_ face of the smuggler's moon — all darkness, only punctuated occasionally by an intact streetlamp or flickering advertisement. Down below, it was as if Nar Shaddaa's denizens tried, unsuccessfully, to pretend that neon could replace the stars.

The abandoned dock was built around and boarded up, by steel and stone. Most of the lanterns lining the narrow, suspended path went out long ago. The only way to survive in such a place — the only way to not fall to one’s death — was to see differently. To abandon sight, as most knew it. 

So Kira never really needed to cast her surprised eyes on the  _Ghost,_ peering through what little yellow and red light punctuated the darkness. Sure, the VCX-100 light freighter was one of a kind. But, just like with Finn's wedding ring — a simple steel band that could have belonged to  _anyone_ — it was not about recognizing the surface. It was not about the silhouette, nor the paint job. The location of the gunner turrets. The familiar carbon scoring along one wing. 

It was about  _seeing._ Just as Kira could see the imprint of Poe and Kes and Shara, on that simple steel band. Now, she saw a thousand memories, all flashing through her minds eye. She saw over thirty years of her life. She remembered stepping aboard the  _Ghost_ for the first time, back on Krownest, so small she could not even climb up the cargo bay's ladder. She remembered learning to fly above the skies of her homeworld, Auntie Hera nervously micromanaging from the copilot's chair. She remembered her mother's laughter. She remembered Chopper's laughter. She remembered frantically running up to the gunner position. She remembered firing at First Order ships.

She remembered fighting her way out of a cantina, brimming with bounty hunters and First Order agents, to find her ship was stolen. To find the  _Ghost_ had vanished, into the abyss.

“Caleb!”

Rey's worried voice called out, getting lost in the wind. She stood on the narrow walkway, bracing herself against the gusts, and stared back at Kira. The Mandalorian's pain screamed out through the Force, like a siren.

Up ahead, the boy halted and slowly turned, again reaching for his lost blaster. His posture changed in an instant, a practiced alertness taking hold.

“I'm okay,” Kira said quietly. She regained the grip on her blaster, stowed it at her hip, and called out louder, “We're okay!”

Kira took one step, and then another. She pressed forward, though that little voice — the coward and the common sense — was screaming at her to run the other way. Collisions with the past almost  _never_ went Kira’s way.The past had a way of punching holes through Kira’s present. Finn and Poe and Maz were proving exceptions to that rule. Kira, however, did not truly think her luck would last. And  _this_? It was one coincidence too many. It was a sign. And Kira doubted, in the end, that the Force was going to be kind.

When had it ever been?

But Kira kept moving forward. She walked around Rey, placing one hand briefly on the girl's shoulder, before continuing forward. Caleb looked warily up at the strange human, fingers still twitching near his belt.

“Is someone coming? Is someone on board?” he whispered loudly, eyes getting wider at the thought. “What do we do? Can I have a blaster?”

“No one’s here, we're fine. And _absolutely not,_ ” Kira scolded. “Jedi don’t use blasters, anyway.”

“I know how to use one! And you’re literally carrying one right-”

Caleb was interrupted by a loud _“rhowwwwwwwwwwrhowrhowrhowrhow,”_ a bizarrely familiar tune. From behind the Ghost, wielding _two blasters_ , a beat-up old astromech droid raced forward on one wheel. On seeing the scene, however, it skidded to a halt. The C1 series astromech thunked back down off its wheels, dropping the blasters immediately. It pointed its optical sensors straight at Kira, shocked into stillness and silence.

Kira smiled. She never thought it possible for _Chopper_ to be speechless.

Though Kira, as she dropped to her knees, found her throat tightening. She, too, was unable to speak.

“Uh, Chop?” Caleb asked tentatively, eyes flicking between the strange woman and _his_ droid.

Chopper slowly rolled past Caleb, stopping just shy of Kira. He leaned forward, gently touching the very top of his frame lightly to her forehead. Kira felt the tears spilling out, over her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose, disappearing into the deep blue scarf about her lips. She lifted her one organic hand, running it smoothly and affectionately over the top of Chopper’s head. He purred, vibrating softly, under her touch.

“I missed you, buddy,” she said, voice cracking. “Liking the new comm dish, by the way.”

In an instant, Chopper was back to being, well, _Chopper._ He beeped out an excited explanation, flashing his arms about.  _Of course_ the droid would not stay speechless for long.

Kira watched him, smiling, on the verge of giddy laughter. Chopper was alive. He was okay. He was still  _Chopper._ And Kira instantly fell in love with Caleb. She would protect the boy with her dying breath, if it came to that. Because Caleb found Chopper and  _kept_ the droid intact, never running a memory wipe. Because Chopper had rushed forward, guns blazing, to protect Caleb. And if Chop signed off on the boy, then that was enough.

As Chopper finished his retelling of all the upgrades Caleb was working on, Kira regained her composure. “Yeah, it does match your original specs. Nice find, Caleb,” she said, flashing the boy a quick smile. “How’s the range, though?”

Kira wiped the tears away from her cheeks. Chopper chattered on, grasping onto Kira’s prosthetic arm and examining it. He pulled it this way and that, making comments about its sad shape.

“I know, I know,” she said, pushing him away playfully. “There was kinda this big fight. I got blown up a bit — yes, of _course_ I blew them up, too. A lot. Took out a ton of TIEs actually. You'd have loved it, Chop.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Shit,” Caleb said, eyes wide. He ran both hands over his montrals, his mouth agape. “I - you - take off those scarves!”

Kira raised an eyebrow at Caleb's demanding tone, but she complied. “Well, security on this platform must be shit anyway, if the _Ghost_ is just hanging out here,” Kira observed.

As her long, dusty blue scarf fell away, Caleb's eyes somehow grew even wider. He looked up to the ship, jaw hanging open, holding onto his montrals as if he would fall right through the floor without holding onto _something._

Then, Caleb rounded on chopper, “This, this is — you little — You never said anything about this being the _Ghost,_ you rust bucket!"

Chopper shot a few choice words back in binary. Something about staying undercover.

“Oy! Language, Chop, he’s just a kid!” Kira scolded, holding up a hand to cut off Chopper’s protests. “Yeah, well, I’ve been having one hell of a month, so I’m allowed, okay?”

Caleb returned his awed attention to Kira. He slapped himself on the cheek, as if trying to wake from a dream. But, after a few seconds, the boy still stood, dumbstruck. Chopper rolled up behind him, pulling out his taser with a low chuckle. Kira kicked the astromech, _hard,_ with her boot. Kira knew _that_  particular "joke" all too well. So Chop spun, aiming his taser at Kira instead.

“Not funny, Chop. Oh, just _try_ it, you sack of bolts. And give the kid a br— What do you mean the girl thinks it's funny?” Kira asked. Chopper pointed one pincer, gesturing behind Kira. She turned about to see Rey, with guilty eyes but a smirk on her lips. “Well, yeah, _she’s_ never been at the other end of your ‘pranks.’”

Rey stepped forward, eyes scanning hungrily over the _Ghost_. She stared up at the ship with the awe of a pilot, mechanic, and Rebel fangirl. She stared up with a mirror of Caleb's own expression.

"You weren't kidding about the droid," Rey commented nonchalanty, eyes reluctantly moving back to the ground. "I thought you said he looked kind of like Artoo, though. I mean, he's a C1 unit, sure. Amazing to even see one operational. They're antiques."

At this, Chopper took _great_ offense, launching into a binary tirade that could have gone on for several hours.

“You’re Kira Bridger Wren,” Caleb interrupted, finally finding his voice again. It was not a question. And there was _something_ in his tone powerful enough to even shut up Chopper. “I think I have something that belongs to you. Follow me.”

"Yeah, my ship. And my droid," Kira muttered under her breath.

Just who was this kid? And what was  _Maz_ playing at?

Caleb opened the cargo bay door of the _Ghost_ , using a rigged-up remote that looked rather clever. Kira followed after him, Rey and Chop close on her heels. The ship remained  _exactly_ as she remembered. The lights. The paint. The feel of the floor beneath her feet. The strange and unplaceable smell that seemed to always linger about. Funny, how a girl could get nostalgic about a cargo hold.

Kira excitedly followed Caleb up the ladder, taking it two rungs at a time. To her surprise, he stopped in front of a very familiar cabin. In all her time on the _Ghost,_ Kira only entered Ezra and Zeb’s old quarters _once_. But she committed every detail of it to memory. And now, she stood in the doorway, watching as Caleb pulled a retro holodisc from beneath Ezra’s old mattress.

Kira realized that _this_ was Caleb's home. He was staying in her father's old room. Her mother’s old, cheeky mural of Zeb and Ezra was still up on the wall. Ezra’s posters were still there, too, many of them starting to fade. It seemed Caleb had re-affixed them with care.

But there were new touches, too. Little inventions were scattered about the floor. There was a drawing — done in a decent, if amateur, hand — of a laughing group of teenagers, very carefully placed in a spot of honor on one wall. And there were dirty clothes _everywhere._

“I didn’t watch it,” Caleb said sheepishly, offering the small holodisc over to Kira. She snapped back to the present moment, taking the disc gingerly in both hands. “I mean, I did try. Chop kept saying it couldn’t be played, even though it _looked_ in good shape. And then, I tried to fix it. And then, it disappeared. When I confronted Chop, he told me it belonged to an old friend, and it wasn’t for me. That she was coming back for it. He meant you, didn't he?”

Kira turned to Chop, slowly turning the holodisc over in her hands. She had no idea what was on it. Before she could even ask Chopper, however, he gave a few curt beeps about _explaining_   _later_ and wheeled off into the cockpit.

“The droid’s right. We have to get moving,” Rey said. Her eyes darted about the corridor, drinking in every detail. “More people _will_ come after Caleb. And we still need to help his friends. Is this ship ready to fly?”

“She’s ready,” Caleb insisted. “Well, er, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“She’s fueled up and ready to go!” Caleb said enthusiastically. “I’ve been working on her for three years. There’s just a _tiny_ problem.”

“She’s voicelocked,” Kira guessed. “Sorry. All that work, and Chop still outsmarted you.”

Chopper's gleeful, chattering laughter rang out from the cockpit.

“You know, he’s usually nicer to me,” Caleb observed ruefully.

“Really? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but he was just pretending,” Kira said. “He’s an asshole. A lovable, loyal asshole. Sometimes.”

“Wait. Did he — Chopper just used me to fix up the ship, didn't he?” Caleb groaned.

Rey raised an eyebrow in Kira's direction. She walked past, clapping both Kira and Caleb on the shoulders, and headed for the cockpit without a word.

“And to help repair him, too, I'd imagine. Sorry, buddy. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. For what it's worth, he does like you. That asshole just has a funny way of showing it,” Kira apologized. She started leading Caleb toward the front of the ship, before remembering something critical. “Hold up, I take it Chop was one of the friends you were talking about. But, you said there were _two_ friends. We may not be able to just _swing by_ and grab the other one, in the _Ghost._ I mean, I promise, we'll get them, but—”

“Oh, we don’t have to. She’s already on board,” Caleb remarked, pointing at Kira’s feet.

There was the slightest brush against Kira’s boot, followed a soft _meow._ In all the hustle and bustle of finding the _Ghost_ again, Kira lost track of the rest of the galaxy. Of the rest of Nar Shaddaa. She even lost track of the rest of the ship, seeing her dad's old quarters again. Her loss of focus was a little disturbing, in retrospect.

How could she be blind to a white loth-cat, weaving and purring between her legs?

“Ash!”

Kira broke into a wide, shocked smile. She threw her arms open, and the loth-cat pounced up into them. Kira held Ashara up, nuzzling the old loth-cat's nose with her own. 

“Wait, so the _cat’s_ yours, too? Chop never said anything about that,” Caleb complained.

Kira cradled Ashara like a child, scratching the cat in her favorite spot, just behind the ear. She flashed a warm, understanding — perhaps, even, _maternal_  — smile in Caleb's direction. Again, that little voice of warning called out in the back of her head. She was too in love with this kid. An endorsement from Chopper was one thing, but from _Ashara_? The white loth-cat was notoriously finicky. For the longest time, the only other person who could so much as _touch_ the little diva was Hera.

“Ash is your other friend,” Kira confirmed, voice quiet with awe. Caleb nodded, watching Kira warily. “Ash and Chop were the two friends you were talking about.”

The words caught a little in Kira’s throat, as she stared at the togruta child. His big, gray eyes were framed by symmetric white circles on his skin, so that every emotion popped ten times harder against the backdrop. And, right now, Caleb looked a little  _ashamed._ And sad.

“Look, I know that sounds pretty pathetic, but-”

“No. Not at all.”

On queue, the white loth-cat leapt from Kira’s arms over to Caleb. He caught her reflexively, and Caleb cradled Ash as a child might hold onto a favorite toy. Kira wondered how many years Caleb was alone in the Undercity, scavenging or worse, before he came across the _Ghost._ She wondered what happened to those other friends, in the drawing on his wall.

“I’ve been in your shoes," Kira reassured him softly. "Chop, Ash, and I, we got into all kinds of trouble. It was just the three of us, for a long time. So I _know_ what it's like, when your only friends are a cat and a droid. So does Rey, in her way. You two should really talk. I think you have a lot in common.”

“Yeah, right,” Caleb scoffed.

“Trust me,” Kira insisted. “Look, Caleb, we _should_ get moving. But, I have to ask. You know why we’re here, right? You get why there's a bounty on your head?”

Caleb studied Kira, one hand moving rhythmically behind Ashara’s ear. The loth-cat purred loudly, as the young man carefully considered Kira’s question. In time, he nodded slowly, before an earnest question of his own welled up in Caleb's eyes.

“I just — why me? My parents were slaves. They built ships. They died in an accident on the dry dock,” he said, matter-of-factly. “They weren't —  this power — I don’t get it.”

“My dad’s parents weren’t Jedi,” Kira said with a shrug. “And Rey’s parents  _definitely_ weren’t. Jedi can be slaves. They can be the children of drunks and addicts and fools. And the greatest heroes — wielders of the light side of the Force — can be born from terrible Sith lords. Being strong with the Force isn’t about bloodlines, Caleb. It about _you._ ”

The boy nodded thoughtfully, his eyes betraying his doubts. His voice was barely above a whisper as Caleb admitted, “I’m scared.”

“Good,” Kira said emphatically. Caleb recoiled back a little, raising one brow ridge in confusion. She smiled, nodding, and continued, “You _should_ be scared. With this power comes great cost, Caleb. And great responsibility. I’d be very worried if you _weren’t_ scared.” — She placed both hands firmly on his shoulders, leaning down a little to look him squarely in the eyes. — "Scared keeps you alive, in places like this. In the places we're going. Being scared of all this — of destiny, of the Force — it keeps you level-headed. Remember this feeling, Caleb. Remember how powerful you are. And remember how terrifying that power can be, to those who don't wield it. And to those who don't understand it. And then, when the times comes, you won't misuse it. Does that make sense?"

Caleb stared back at her, chewing on his bottom lip. "I'm scared, but I'm brave, too. I promise," Caleb insisted. "And I  _want_ this. I want to go with you. Join you.  _Learn_ about all this. There are so many people I couldn't protect. Before. I owe them. To protect everyone like them."

Kira nodded resolutely. She pulled Caleb into a one-armed hug.

"I know."


	18. Passion

Navigating the mazes of Nar Shaddaa’s hidden ship lanes, seated in the _Ghost’s_ pilot chair with one leg curled beneath her, Kira Bridger Wren smiled. She smiled so hard, and for so long, that her cheeks started to ache. But, she could not stop. She was  _home._ Kira felt the ship move with her, as much an extension of her own body as her prosthetic arm. The hum of the engines was as familiar as the beating of her own heart.

The secret, narrow passages they traversed — the real lifeblood of Nar Shaddaa — were notoriously difficult to navigate for even the most experienced smugglers. The tunnels wound through and beneath the Undercity, most just barely large enough for a light freighter. Their sharp twists and turns were deliberate, designed to outmanuever the Imperial and Republic forces of old. Now, as Caleb informed them, even the First Order stayed away from the lanes. They lost too many good pilots and agents, in their first weeks of Nar Shaddaa's occupation.

Kira, however, learned to fly from one of the greatest pilots in the galactic history. Hera Syndulla was once a name whispered, with awe and annoyance, among Imperial agents and sour blockade commanders. She was a legend long before most Rebels even knew her name. Long before she was named a general of the Rebellion. For an Imperial, the sight of Hera's  _Ghost_  was a death knell, echoing out across entire fleets.

Kira never got anywhere close to Hera’s level of mastery. She supposed, in a dogfight — even in the _Ghost_ — Poe would _probably_ take her down. Probably.

But, compared to a showdown with the Rebellion's finest pilot, Nar Shaddaa was a cakewalk. After all, Kira once made good credits, in some hard years, using the lanes to transport _perfectly legitimate_ cargo. Those very above board jobs came in handy now, as the tunnels allowed the _Ghost_ to stay out of sight and away from First Order scans.

“So, Maz, you and I are gonna have to sit and talk about a few things. Like trust. And personal property. And proper guardianship of minors,” Kira said, glancing at the alien's blue-painted projection in the middle of the dash.

Kira's scolding tone was undercut by the excited smile, still plastered across her face, as she made a particularly difficult turn. The  _Ghost_ purred beneath her, as if the old girl relished finally spreading her wings.

There was long silence on the other end of the comm, marked only by occasional static. Caleb twisted a bit in the co-pilot’s chair, mouthing _“awkward”_ with a cheeky grin. The boy had immediately pounced on the front-row seat, a few minutes prior, when Rey and Chopper ran off to go do _something_ that gave Kira a bad feeling. Kira gave Caleb a second of side eye, before turning her attention back to the lanes. She wondered how quickly a good slap to the back of the head could be considered acceptable behavior, in their very new relationship.

“You know, I can take care of myself,” Caleb protested, filling the silence as he gestured dramatically.

“Yeah, you were doing a great job. Stunned, and slung over the shoulder of a Mandalorian scumbag, who looked like he could eat you for breakfast," Kira shot back, shaking her head.

“Okay. That was one time," Caleb said defensively. "One time. Before that, everything was great!”

“See, the kid was doing great,” Maz said, over the comm line. Kira narrowed her eyes, keeping them on the lanes ahead as she made another sharp turn, narrowly avoiding some rubble marking a collapsed old tunnel. Caleb — perched haphazardly on his haunches, to see better out the front window — nearly fell from his seat. “That droid gave him a great job, fixing up the _Ghost._ Free room and board. Best protection detail you could buy on Nar Shaddaa, hands down.”

“Until today, that is. If you’re admitting to _letting_ Caleb get kidnapped by bounty hunters, Maz,” Kira growled.

“Of course not. That was far more dramatic than I was expecting,” Maz said dismissively. “Actually, it hampered your training. Made the boy too easy to find. But he was fine. You were fine, right, kid?”

“This is your _friend?_ ” Caleb asked, casting Kira a _very_ skeptical look.

“Some days more than others,” Kira sighed. “Look, Maz, just give me exact coordinates for a hangar or something, okay? We can hash this out in person.”

“You’ve gotten very impertinent, since you got a girlfriend,” Maz said. “Does Vayel not respect her elders? Not very Twi’lek of her.”

The coordinates came through, and Kira hung up the line without another word. If she ever found the soldier who took that recording, they were going to have a _talk._ Caleb, again, looked ready to say something very  _smart,_ but Kira held up an outstretched hand to shush him. Then, she pointed to the navicomputer, one eyebrow raised. Caleb got the hint, and he leaned over eagerly to input the coordinates Maz provided, smirking all the while. 

“Hey, detour around the old foundry," he suggested, examining the map. "Kanjiklub moved into the old Exchange tunnels a couple months ago. They’ve got turrets and everything. You don’t wanna deal with that."

“Good thinking,” Kira approved, giving him a little nod.

They ventured in a ways, successfully making it through Caleb’s detour without issue. The surface was close, now. Caleb seemed able to sense it, his whole body pulling taught. Kira wondered when he'd last been to the surface. The tolls were even steeper now, under First Order rule. Not that they were ever very affordable, for many living in Nar Shaddaa's slums. And Kira imagined the old, narrow shafts — the ones small children used to sneak about the moon — were now more heavily monitored. Caleb's apprehension was a mirror, of the fear Kira had seen in many Undercity slum kids. It was more than a fear of the future. It was a fear of the _sky._

Ash purred and tried to play, as if the loth-cat was doing her best to calm Caleb. Kira chewed on the inside of her lip, trying to think of _something_ helpful to say. She was saved, in a way, when Rey and Chop returned.

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Kira asked, never taking her eyes off the tight spaces and corners ahead. "Do I even  _want_ to know what you two were up to?"

“Actually, I think you do. I found something. On the ship,” Rey explained.

Kira caught the familiar blue glint out of the corner of her eye. She watched — probably taking her eyes of the lanes for a second too long — as Rey reverently held up a beautifully engraved cube of pale blue light. A Jedi holocron. One of the last. Caleb took it from Rey, gingerly. He held the holocron in both hands, carefully studying the intricate geometric engravings.

Kira actually jumped, when it came to life in his hands.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen-”

Kira's smile was really gone, now. She still had nightmares where Master Kenobi's last message played in the background. Where Jedi lay dead, long-gone loved ones and ghosts among them. Sure, Kira was born twenty years after Order 66. But Darth Sidious's — and Darth Vader's — horrific massacre still _screamed_ through the Force. The bloodshed and loss felt  _personal_ , to Kira.

Rey, however, watched the recording with very different eyes. Eyes unscarred, that saw the Force and the Jedi  _so_ differently. She was absolutely entranced, watching the projection of a young Obi-Wan.

“-a new hope will emerge. May the force be with you, always.”

Silence fell upon the cockpit. No one spoke for the rest of their journey, both young jedi lost in their own thoughts. The _Ghost_ emerged from the smugglers’ tunnels, into the bright lights of Nar Shaddaa’s upper reaches. From here, the sky was still only a still black sheet, and Caleb seemed uninterested as he studied the holocron further. Kira maneuvered the ship in front of Maz’s hangar. They had emerged, perfectly, mere meters from the entry point. _Of course_ Maz's hangar was near a hidden lane entrance.

The hangar door slowly ground open, metal on metal. Bright light spilled forth, blinding in the _Ghost’s_ dark cabin. Kira had to take a moment to adjust.

“You’ve opened that holocron before, Caleb," she observed.

“I, well, I’m sorry?” he admitted, looking over sheepishly.

“No, it’s okay,” Kira said, taking the _Ghost_ in for her landing. Even the light freighter just barely fit inside the smuggler’s hideaway. “That’s actually how my dad learned he was a Jedi. The holocron called out to him, through the force. So, my dad stole it. And then my dad could open it, and he saw _that_ message. That’s how he and his master learned the truth. It was the start of, well, _everything._ ”

“Your father _stole_ a Jedi holocron?” Rey asked incredulously.

“Well, Kanan _let_ him steal it,” Kira admitted, laughter in her voice. “It was a test.”

Caleb threw Kira and Rey a sidelong, suspicious glance. “You two aren’t going to do stuff like that, right?” he accused.

“Of course not,” Rey insisted.

“What? No, of course we are,” Kira said, turning to Rey with mock indignation as she stood up. “I mean, it’s Messing With Your Jedi Padawan 101. Wow, we really have to have a team meeting about this.”

“I thought we were going to _reform_ the Jedi Order,” Rey laughed.

“I mean, sure, but that part always looked like so much fun," Kira shot back.

" _Padawan."_

Caleb looked at them both, the awed whisper hanging on his lips. Kira's expression softened. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that this was all old hat for her. Jedi and lightsabers and padawans. The Force. It was in her blood. It was once her whole life. Her whole world. And she turned away from it. Kira, however, was the exception. She was quite possibly, even, the  _last_ left in the galaxy who could claim such a thing.

"Padawan," she repeated, warmly smiling at the boy. "If that's what you want."

"Um, that's not a serious question, is it?" Caleb shot back.

"It's a very serious question. One you should take more time to think on," Kira sighed. " _Both_ of you."

"Yeah, well, while I'm thinking about it," Caleb said, standing up excitedly, "I still wanna train."

Chopper _whomped_ excitedly. The droid started chattering on about all _his_ ideas for Jedi training.

“ _No, Chopper_ ,” Kira warned, making for the exit. “And, no, I don’t care care that I haven’t even heard them yet. I really don’t think I need to. And _yes,_ before you ask, I know the story about Dad falling off the _Ghost._ ”

Chopper laughed heartily, leaving Kira to remember just how  _questionable_ the astromech's morals and allegiances could be, at times.

Caleb followed them out and opened the cargo bay door. And there, at the bottom of the ramp, Maz Kanata and Chewbacca both waited in the hangar. Chewie was the first to speak, saying something clever about how Kira could keep those grubby paws to _herself_ now, and stop messing with the Falcon.

Kira pointed a figure at him in accusation. “That thermal regulator mod was a good idea, and you know it,” she shot back.

“Wait, the _Falcon?_ ” Caleb gasped. It looked as if  _that_ might be a touch too much. The little gear-head jedi might finally, actually overload from the ridiculousness of his day. “The  _Millennium Falcon_ is here, on Nar Shaddaa?”

“You say that like it’s strange,” Maz laughed, adjusting her spectacles to get a better look at the boy.

“It’s just, you — you’re Chewbacca,” Caleb said, pointing, as the Wookie nodded. He gestured between Kira and Rey vaguely. “You — and this is totally normal for you. I just — what am I even—”

“Welcome to the Jedi Order,” Rey said, putting one hand on Caleb's shoulder with a tight-lipped smile.

“Welcome to the Rebellion,” Kira laughed. “If you think _today_ was weird, just wait.”

“I poured you a drink, inside,” Maz told Caleb, gesturing over her shoulder. Kira immediately shot the short orange alien an intense look of warning. He was just a kid. “ _T_ _he blue one._ Only the blue one. I'll know if you try to steal any of my stash. Go have a seat, child.”

Caleb looked about, eyes darting between Maz, Kira, and Rey. Kira gave him a reluctant nod of permission, even as she rolled her eyes. He visibly relaxed and sprinted, excitedly, for the hangar door. Kira watched the boy leave, her shoulders relaxing for only a moment, before she remembered how _frustrated_ she was with Maz.

“Yes, well, _Messing With Your Padawan 101,_ ” Maz quipped.

“He could have _died,_ Maz,” Kira said seriously. “Or worse. And then there’s the _Ghost._ I cannot believe you actually  _kept_ her here.  _Three years,_ I've been looking for her. How long have you had her?”

“A little over two,” Maz admitted. “You needed time away from the _Ghost —_ and _don’t._ I see you. I see your mouth. My eyes haven’t failed me yet. Don’t say you don’t understand, child.”

Wandering the most desolate corners of the Rim and the worst slums of the Core, Kira learned many lessons. The hardest was the value in letting go, if only temporarily, of safety blankets and shields. Without the _Ghost,_ Kira struggled. She was forged, made stronger, even if it almost killed her. It _did_ destroy a part of her. Kira understood, but that did not abate her anger.

Rey was right. They would _not_ be training padawans from the old playbook. There had to be another way.

“The _Ghost_ is one the thing. _I’m_ one thing,” Kira growled, the spark of fury starting to catch along her spine. “But the boy?”

“The quadjumper never would have taken off,” Maz explained, lazily tossing a disconnected transistor core in her hand.

“That’s not the point!” Kira hissed. “He was still in a firefight!”

“With stun blasters. Kira, child—”

“Call me child one more gods damned time,” Kira warned, voice low.

Maz studied Kira with hardened eyes. She looked between Chewie and Rey and, in a low tone, commanded, “Leave us.”

They stood in awkward silence before parting, Rey throwing her new friend a concerned look. There was a question in the girl's eyes. She would stay, if Kira asked. Kira shook her head, waving them both on.

Only when they were far out of range did Maz continue, “Do you understand the lesson? Do you see why you are here? Why she needs you?”

“You’re better than this,” Kira said sadly. “I could have figured this out, without putting the boy in danger. You could have kept the _Ghost_ away from me, without keeping him trapped-”

Maz placed a hand to her temple, gasping. “Ah. No, no. Key, darling. Caleb was never meant to be part of your training, some sacrificial child,” she explained, eyes going wide. “But he was a _child._ I found him _after._ A fter the destruction of my home. After the Battle of Crait. After _he_ found the Ghost, on his own. That dock was as safe a place as any, with the right people paid off. The Resistance was gone. And the Rebellion was rebuilding, but-”

Maz looked at Kira meaningfully.

“Ironically enough, Caleb was probably safer on Nar Shaddaa,” Kira begrudgingly admitted, deflating. She shook her head and sat on the  _Ghost's_ ramp, pulling her knees to her chest. “Can we skip the part where you scold me? Yes, I’m too much of a hothead. Yes, I’m too much like my parents. No, that will never change. Throw in some added guilt tripping over me not trusting you, for good measure.

“ _Although,_ I’m still ticked about Chop and Ash. The ship is one thing, Maz. But keeping my friends here is a different lesson, and it’s a lot shittier.”

“You care so deeply for others. You just wanted to protect the boy,” Maz said sadly. There was a twinge of pity in her voice. “You remind me-”

“Of my parents, I know, Maz. Skip ahead a bit.”

“Of Luke Skywalker,” Maz corrected.

Kira glanced up, dumbfounded, at the old woman. The _Ghost_ loomed over both of them, like a blanket or a shield.

“Growing up was maybe the worst thing he ever did,” Maz said darkly. “The most painful, at any rate. As it is for us all. It took something terrible from him, if only for a time. It took the best of him. He healed, but you don't have that kind of time, Kira. All your pain and rage — you are right. You are no child. You have not been, for some time. No matter what I tried, I could not change that. But that does not mean you have to remain dead inside. You  _cannot._

“ _Find them._ Be the light and the anchor. The fulcrum, balancing the threads. The _bridge._ What becomes of the Jedi now — who can say? _That_ is not your true destiny. Their fate was never _yours_ to shape, nor to walk. But to save them, from the life you knew? From the hunt, and the fear, and the pain. To teach them about what you see. About what  _only_ you can see. _That_ , you can do.”

“I really hate it when you do that,” Kira said, voice barely above a whisper. Her throat choked shut with emotion. “I’m all ready to storm in here and kick your ass — not that I could, I’m sure — and then you say something like _that._

“But who are you talking about Maz? Just the Jedi? Or—”

Maz pulled the bug-eyed lenzes away of her spectacles away, and her small eyes stared at Kira with earnest intensity.

“What happens to Mandalore now is not _my_ choice,” the woman said, taking two steps closer. “If you wish to let it die, there are many in the galaxy who would praise you. If you wish to take your mother’s path, there are many who would fear you. And the opposite is true.”

“It’s not about them.”

Kira’s voice was quiet, but her eyes were fierce. Maz disagreed. Kira could see that, etched plainly across her face. Maz, after all, was the queen of reading the galaxy’s currents. _Everything_ was connected, especially to her. Whatever Mandalore’s fate, it would echo across the galaxy for generations. That was the obvious truth.

The Mandalorian truth, however, was that Kira would ignore them all. This choice came down to her, her family, and Mandalore. It was _her_ choice. It was Mandalore’s choice. And no one else’s.

Kira sighed, letting her eyes fall closed. “I just haven’t made up my mind, Maz,” she admitted. “Not on that. And there’s no time. The Mandalorians can survive on their own. But the Jedi — well, we’ve got to get to work.”


	19. Emotion

“Congrats!” Poe said, raising his nearly empty tumbler in mock salute. “Didn’t know you two were looking to adopt.”

Kira rolled her eyes down at Poe, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cabin _.  _ Kira's new _adopted_ pupil  was safely tucked away in his own room, aboard the  _Ghost_. Caleb had adamantly turned down a bigger cabin aboard the Rebellion ship, and Kira understood. The _Ghost_ was his home. It was a part of him. Just as it was part of Kira. So, after thoroughly fanboying out for over an hour — racing through the decks of the  _Home One,_ stopping to ogle wordlessly at Poe and Finn and Rose — Caleb  _finally_ passed out the second his head hit the pillow aboard the  _Ghost._

Now, t he new Jedi Council was scattered about Kira's room on the _Home One_. Poe and Finn lounged on the floor, leaning against each other. Rey was up and about, pacing restlessly, not touching a drop of the strong liquor Poe practically forced into her hand. Rose sat on the bed, knees curled into her chest, wearing a content smile. Even though Rey and Kira brought some ill tidings about the First Order, infectious joy permeated the chamber. Their mission had been a resounding success, with the translated Jedi texts and even a new baby jedi securely aboard a Rebellion ship. In the course of a couple weeks, the Rebellion had gone from one Jedi to three. 

Kira grabbed one of the pillows off the bed, hurling it with gentle precision an inch above Poe’s head.

“Ha! Missed!”

“Of course I did,” Kira scoffed. “Didn’t want you spilling your drink all over my floor.”

Laughter rang out, and Kira looked around the room in surprise. Were they ever like this, the Councils and Rebellions of old? Just a ragtag crew of friends — forgotten and broken things — drinking and joking and being stupid in someone’s bedroom? Kira hoped so. She hoped some poor Jedi and Rebellion bastards had moments like this. Moments of contentment and comfort. Of feeling safe. Of feeling at home.

“He’s pretty cute,” Rose cooed, her voice maternal. The laughter faded somewhat from her face. “Kinda makes me wish, well-”

“That we didn’t have to train him,” Kira finished, nodding. She took a deep, discontented chug of her drink. “But it’s for his own protection. Don’t worry, we’re not putting a lightsaber in his hands and throwing him in front of the First Order. Not yet, anyway.”

Rey sighed heavily and noted, “Not that I was much older, when that  _ actually  _ happened." She leaned against a wall, gesturing dramatically — and flawlessly — with her very full glass.

“Fucks sake, what is it with the Force,” Kira groaned, lying back on the bed and tilting her head to stare, upside down, at Rey. She carefully balanced her drink on her stomach. “You and Luke and Leia and my dad. All these babies, just throwing them to the wolves. ‘Oh, the dark side’s growing again? Better find some poor teenage orphan to go save the day, I guess.’”

Finn chimed in. “Huh. That is  _ literally  _ what keeps happening," he said, looking rather distressed.

“Yeah, that’s kinda messed — hey,” Rose sat up straighter, looking around the room with concern. “Where’d the droid go?”

Chopper  _ had  _ been sitting in the corner of the room, repairing some of the inner mechanisms of Kira’s arm. A very kind old mechanic on the  _ Home One  _ had given it a good go, but the prosthetic had this little  _ twitch  _ ever since the Battle of the Beast. If anyone could work out the kinks, it would be Chop. He practically built that arm, after all. The original was the ugliest damn thing Kira had ever seen. And it was one of the kindest gifts she ever received.

Now, the  _ arm  _ was still over at Kira’s workbench. But Chop had vanished.

“Chopper?” Kira called out hesitantly, to no response. “Whelp, it's probably fine. it's fine. . . . Or it's totally going to bite me in the ass tomorrow."

Poe narrowed his eyes and warned, “If he’s bothering BB-8 again, I’m gonna throw that bucket of bolts out an airlock. I mean it this time."

“He’s harmless,” Kira said, voice pitching up two octaves under the strain of such an obvious lie.

Finn agreed emphatically with this husband. “That droid needs a good memory wipe,” he said, wrapping one arm around Poe’s shoulder. “He actually shocked me today.  _ Shocked me.  _ Just because I said he needs a new paint job. Shouldn’t he have something in his programing that _stops_ that?”

“Well, he does need a new coat of paint,” Kira mused. “But Chop’s organic preservation programming got fried a long time ago.”

Rose turned, one eyebrow raised, her face caught between amusement and sincere alarm. “Wait, are you saying Chopper could actually _hurt_ someone?” she asked.

“I mean, so can BB-8. But only if it's to _save us_ ,” Finn said, quickly glaring at Kira again. He turned back to Rose and added, “Remember Snoke’s ship?”

“I try not to,” Rose said flatly.

“Yeah, no, I don’t think Chopper has that parameter,” Kira said slowly. She would ask about  _that_ particular story another time. “I mean, Chop’s at least seventy-five years old, and he hasn’t gotten a memory wipe in fifty. He’s a  _ person,  _ you know? Like Artoo. They don’t really operate like machines, not anymore.”

“So that evil little droid could murder us all in our sleep?” Finn deadpanned. “Great.”

“Well, only if you keep talking about him like that,” Kira quipped lightly, lying back down on the bed.

She stretched out her one still-attached arm, looking up to see her  _padawan._ Rey stopped pacing, only for a moment, and flashed Kira a contentedly amused smile. As Finn, Poe, and Rose continued chatting on — Kira lost track, along the way, of most of the conversation — the two Jedi just enjoyed the serenity of the moment. There was rambunctious laughter. Dirty jokes. Underhanded ribbing.

Overwhelming, absolute safety. Family.

Kira Bridger Wren never just  _ fell  _ asleep, unguarded. Not in sixteen years. That night, however, surrounded by the lively conversation of her friends, she finally drifted off peacefully.

Her dreams took her to familiar places. She stood, bare feet planted in the cold, wet snow of Krownest, looking out across a frozen lake. Her breath formed little clouds in the air, even as her feet, really, never felt particularly uncomfortable. The wind sang through the pine trees, as fresh powder was kicked up off a nearby drift, tickling the back of Kira’s neck.

She blinked, and her eyes opened to the grassy plains of Lothal. She stood in front of the desecrated Jedi temple, destroyed years ago by the Imperial Sith. A white loth-cat, though not Ashara, ran through the grass ahead of her. The air tasted different, here. Krownest tasted sweet and clean. On Lothal, Kira could taste the earth itself, still sweet but also flowering with the faintest hint of decay.

She saw a flicker of movement, out of the corner of her eye. Kira turned, to see nothing and no one there. And then, over her left shoulder  — her bare left shoulder, with no arm affixed there — Kira staggered back at the sight of a loth-wolf. A _massive_ loth-wolf.

Kira had never seen one, in person. After the Rebellion, the wolves disappeared as swiftly as they arrived on Lothal. Now, this one — fur stark white, towering over Kira, eyes a deep blue — seemed entirely real and perfectly solid. She reached out a hand, instinctively, to stroke its fur.

And, with a blink, the scene changed again. Kira stood on a far less familiar plain. Here, the force ached like an old wound, stretching on uncomfortably in the silence. The wind carried flecks of ash and salt. Kira knelt down in the grass, placing her palm to the earth, and felt the vibration beneath the planet’s surface. The kyber crystals tugged at her, like a ley line, right to the lost young teacher tutoring a student in Kunda. The chiss woman looked up, surprised, as Kira extended a hand.

Then, she stood, hand still extended in cold darkness. The air here was stagnant. And horrifyingly familiar. Kira looked out upon the barren wasteland of Malachor, a graveyard planet littered with shattered ruins and corpses. Malachor witnessed a great and final battle, two thousand years ago, between the Jedi and Mandalore. Or, really, between the Jedi and the Sith. Most died never knowing their true enemy.

Neither side emerged victorious, in the end.

Kira only had a second’s warning, the faintest sound of a boot crunching through ground bone and rock. Unarmed, she instinctively turned and went to throw up her left arm. But, it was missing.

As the lightsaber of her opponent ignited, Kira used her teeth to activate the bracer on her other wrist. A large round shield of blue light — modified from its original Mandalorian design — erupted from her arm just in time to collide with the red blade.

Kira’s feet ground and slid into the thin layer of glassy black sand that covered the planet’s surface. She looked up through the shield, shock flooding through the body. She looked up, into the eyes of Kylo Ren. The shield shook violently beneath his assault, shuttering precariously. Kira swallowed hard, as she realized her holster and the Darksaber were nowhere to be found.

“No!”

Rey’s voice rang out, and Kylo Ren spun around to face the song of a new lightsaber, cutting through the dead air. Kira returned to her bracer, preparing a little Mandalorian trick for that  _ monster.  _ Ren, however, was running toward Rey before Kira could react.

“Rey!”

Kira jolted awake in bed, the shout still on her lips. Her right hand immediately went for the Darksaber on her end table. She clutched at the lightsaber, like a child grasping at their mother’s hand. Then, however, Kira realized she was not alone. She stared up into the ginormous black eyes of Ashara.

The white loth-cat sat upon Kira’s chest, unflinching. Kira relaxed, her head rolling back and hand falling away from the saber. She took long but shallow breaths, never breaking eye contact with the loth-cat, as she felt out for her surroundings in the darkness. Her bedding was damp beneath her. Her brow was drenched. Chopper sat in his corner, in low power mode, undisturbed by yet another of Kira’s nightmares. To her relief, the only two life forms in the chamber were Kira and Ash.

“I wonder what normal people dream about, Ash,” Kira mused, scratching the loth-cat behind the ear. “Must be nice. Maybe you fly. Or have nightmares about turning up to a meeting in your underwear. I’d take it.

“Saw a white loth-cat,” she told Ash, and the creature perked up one ear. “I was on Lothal. I think it was _before_ the Empire was taken down. I wanna go back, but — I don’t think that was the message. Not sure what the message actually  _ was _ , of course. I mean, about Lothal. Any help would be appreciated.”

Ashara blinked at her, keeping any secrets about Lothal to herself. After a moment, she nudged at under Kira’s chin with the top of her head. The loth-cat cradled herself there, and Kira wrapped an arm protectively — or, perhaps, possessively — around Ash. The loth-cat purred loudly, and Kira was left dumbfounded.

“Unfortunately, I’m not my father. Maybe if I could read your mind, or whatever it was that he — well, never mind," Kira sighed mournfully. "I have no idea what it all means. But, I do think I learned one thing. I know where we have to go, if you wanna come. It’s been a while, after all, since we visited Dantooine.”


	20. There is No Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who just watched the Rebels season 4 mid-season premiere? Apologies for any residual angst that bled into this chapter. (But, hey, this *is* Ezra and Sabine's daughter we're talking about. *Of course* she's extra as hell.)

"Are you out of your mind, love?"

Kira took a bracing, deep breath. She cast her eyes away from Vayel's vibrant blue, holographic form. Regret already bubbled in her stomach. This call was a mistake. But sitting there, in the cold silence of her chambers aboard the  _Home One,_ Kira needed to remember. The searing red blade of the lightsaber still burned across her vision. She needed to remember what was  _real._

"Kira Bridger Wren," Vayel scolded again. Kira looked back at her, uncertainly, to see Tae reaching out as if she could actually embrace the human. Grab hold of her face or shoulders, and shake some sense into her. " _Are you out of your Goddess damned mind?_ "

"We have to go," Kira repeated. She turned back, looking anywhere _but_ at Tae. She fixated on her unmade bed, on every ebb and flow of the wrinkled white blanket curled at the foot of the mattress.

Taenara's anger and confusion swelled as she asked, "You're just going to follow the damned visions again? How do you know it's not a trap? Like before?"

In an instant, Kira's mind pulled her back. Her room aboard the  _Home One_ vanished, replaced by one of the many the bleak, gray industrial sectors of Corellia. She stood back-to-back with Hera, surrounded by First Order soldiers and the crash of waves against the sea walls. Kira learned their leader's name. Years later. She made him pay. For all of it. But, at the time, he was just one more anonymous Imperial wannabe. A drone in an army no one — including its best soldiers — truly understood. Kira remembered the order to fire. She remembered throwing up her shield, knowing it would not be enough. She remembered it all, as if she were  _there._ As if it were happening, all over again.

"My  _ayy!_ Kira!"

Kira's eyes snapped open, finally focusing on Vayel's projection. On every flicker of light, every bit of static. On the familiar, enchanting shape of her beautiful eyes, looking back at Kira in desperate worry. Kira's breathing was ragged, coming in quick, shallow bursts. It had been so long —  _so_ long — since her last true flashback. Kira did not know what was more surprising: that she fell back into _it_ , or that someone — even Tae — was able to pull her out.

"I'm-"

"If you say okay, my love, I swear to-"

"Fine. Totally not okay," Kira admitted. She took several deep breaths before continuing, "But I still have to do this."

"Kira, you can't be-"

"She's in  _danger,_ Tae. I saw her," Kira insisted, swallowing hard. "More than that, she's  _one of us._ I can't — after  _everything_ that happened,  _especially_ after Corellia, I  _won't_ leave her behind. I wasn't wrong that day, Vayel, I just-"

Vayel collected herself for a moment, before finally saying, "Okay, my love. Okay." — Kira felt the tears spilling, hot and unwanted, over her cheeks. Vayel reached out into empty air again, as if she could make it all go away. — "Just,  _please-_ "

"I'll come back in one piece, love. I promise," Kira insisted.

"You had fucking better," Vayel said. Her eyes flashed with fury and determination. "Or you know  _nothing_ will stop me from making those bastards pay."

Kira flashed her a genuine smile, even underneath the pain. "Well, I would hate to miss that," she quipped. "Sounds like quite the show."

Vayel narrowed her eyes. Her expression never flinched. No smile formed upon her lips. She only answered, "Damn right. So don't."

And, with that, Vayel Taenara closed the call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t say it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Rey protested earnestly, leaning back in her chair.

Kira arched an eyebrow, throwing some serious side in her copilot’s direction. A chill silence filled the _Ghost's_ cockpit, leaving only the hum of the hyperdrive in its wake. The whole galaxy grated against Kira's every sense and sensibility this morning. Dreams and nightmares and  _flashbacks_ still echoed across her thoughts. And beneath it all was that same, constant dread. The warning in the Force. The visions.

Rey broke the silence, startling Kira back into the present. “I just don’t think he’s ready for this,” she said.

Distantly, behind the closed cockpit door, Kira heard Chopper’s manic laughter and Caleb's frustrated shouting. The two were at it again. For the third time in as many hours. _This time,_ it sounded like they were chasing each other all over the ship. The young togruta apparently picked up a few rather creative profanities — in several languages — living on Nar Shaddaa. Kira did not even _want_ to know what was going on.

“See? You said it. You jinxed it," Kira scolded, gesturing back toward the door dramatically. She added, rather defensively, "And I’m pretty sure whatever they're up to is _Chopper's_ fault."

Rey turned, leaning over the arm of her chair with intensity. She looked Kira dead in the eye and insisted, “You know, _that’s_ not really what I was talking about.”

“He’s literally only five years younger than you. The same age my dad was when he started training. When he joined a _Rebel cell,_ ” Kira said. She turned away from Rey's intense gaze, to instead face the swirling light of the hyperspace lane out the cockpit window. “And before you start, no, five years _isn't_ a big difference. Not when you’re my age.”

“You’re not that much older than me!” Rey protested.

“I could literally be Caleb’s mom, and it wouldn’t even be that weird,” Kira shot back.

Kira only answer was silence. One eyebrow raised, she turned, sitting cross-legged to face Rey head on. Rey only blinked at her teacher in confusion. For her part, Kira did the math on Nar Shaddaa. Right after picking up the boy, on the way back to meet with Maz. The calculation still freaked her out. It certainly made Kira feel _old,_ in a way running for your life, hopping from system to system, never really could.

“Rey, I’m 33 years old," Kira explained. "I could have had Caleb at 18. That’s almost the same age my dad would've been, when I was born. Which is crazy young, I know. I certainly don’t want _you_ running off and making babies any time soon-”

“Kira!”

“I’m just saying. You know. Don’t,” Kira suggested, shrugging matter-of-factly. “We’ve got work to do. And if you need, like, _information_ on any of that stuff, let me know."

Rey sputtered out an incoherent protest, slinking down into her seat. Kira could  _swear_ the young jedi was blushing. But, Kira made a mental note to table the conversation for later. It certainly  _looked_ like a good talk might be necessary, when Rey was ready.

Kira fought the urge to smile, rather unsuccessfully, as she continued, "Anyway, the point is, you’re both babies to me. Super powerful babies, but still. Do I want to protect you? Set you up on some idyllic planet where you can go to school and make friends and head down to the cantina on the weekends? But only if you’ve done your chores? Of course. But we don’t have that luxury.”

The smile faded from Kira's lips, as she fixated on Rey with earnest intensity. Rey furrowed her brow, silently assessing Kira's view of things. Soon enough, she pulled up her knees and curled into her chair, watching hyperspace's magnificent light show rush past.

When Rey finally broke the silence, all she said was, “Wow. You look really good for your age.”

Kira chuckled. “ _T_ _hat’s_ what you got out my little speech?”

“That. And you’re worried about us,” Rey said. “But I already knew that.”

Kira's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she amended, “And I have protection in my quarters, if you ever-”

“Kira!”

“I'm trying to be the responsible adult, here!” Kira protested, throwing her hands up in surrender. "The, you know, fun aunt or whatever. You can always come talk to me about-"

“And I’m telling you _that is really not going to be an issue,_ ” Rey insisted. She raised her eyebrows, fixing Kira with a rather meaningful stare. Even as she started to blush, again.

“Oh. Right,” Kira said, chewing over that information with a wide grin. “Right on. Totally called it. Poe owes me credits.”

As Rey opened her mouth to protest, eyes narrowed in annoyed shock, the door to the cockpit slid open.

“Credits? For what?”

Kira raised an eyebrow over at Caleb. She chewed on her lip, before turning with a smug smile to look back out the cockpit window.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, kid” she said.

“Hey, come on! That’s not fair!” Caleb protested. He marched forward, coming to a haughty halt between Kira and Rey.

For the moment, Rey ignored him. She leaned around the boy, glaring at Kira.

“I just — I mean — _Finn_ , I could see. I guess? But how does _Poe_ not know? I just figured it didn’t need to be said,” Rey asked incredulously.

"What-"

“Oh, no, Finn totally knows,” Kira said, gently pushing Caleb out of the way. She pointed to the chair behind Rey, and he shot the elder human a classic angsty teenage padawan glare. “Poe’s just way more oblivious than most people give him credit for.”

“Huh.”

“Oh, come on! What are you two talking about?” Caleb groaned. He threw himself down with melodramatic flair in the designated chair.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Rey repeated, smiling as she faced forward.

 _Eventually,_ Caleb stopped pestering them about it. Their journey through hyperspace, however, never stopped being a little rough around the edges. Rey and Caleb certainly fought like siblings, and Chopper was no help. Kira now understood why no Jedi Knight ever took on more than one padawan. It was not for the sake of the students, to give them more attention. It was clearly for the sake of the teacher, to maintain their sanity. It took  _all_ of Kira's willpower not to scream at them. To try and set a better example.

The _Ghost_ , somehow, made it to their destination in one piece. Kira brought her down planetside for a relatively quiet landing. As they left the ship in Chopper’s capable hands, Kira stayed behind a moment. She placed one hand atop Chopper’s head and knelt down, bringing her face inches from his optical sensors.

“Will you stop stirring up trouble? Did you pull this shit with Kanan, too?” Kira hissed at him. She narrowed her eyes at the droid’s overly cocky response. “No, it is _not_ helping with their training. It’s just giving _me_ a headache.”

Chopper backed up, arms out, spinning around excitedly. He argued some more, his fevered beeps pitching up an octave.

“Payback? How dare you — Poe and I were _not_ this bad with Hera,” she protested, over his yelling. “No! No, we weren’t!”

“Something wrong?” Caleb called out down the ramp. “Come on! This place is amazing!”

Chopper shuttered and sputtered, his beeps growing into something more akin to a growl.

“What do you mean, you don’t like her? Oh sweet gods of beyond the — if this has to do with Rey liking BB-8 more than you, Chop — Well, you could _try_ being nicer, you know,” Kira sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. Chop started to protest again, and she cut him off, “Just keep the ship ready, in case things go wrong.”

Kira brusquely pushed herself to her feet and walked to the bottom of the ramp, stopping there a moment. It felt strange, to _willingly_ walk off the _Ghost,_ after all this time. It felt strange to leave Chop behind. Kira did not sense any real danger waiting on the planet’s surface, but the Force moved strangely here. Just as that disturbance masked their arrival, Kira feared it could mask any threat to her team.

She turned around, looking back up at Chopper with worry in her deep blue eyes. Chop sat motionless, but Kira could feel him staring back at her.

He let out a low hum. A series of binary beeps in Chopper's unique, characteristic _accent._ “Be _careful,”_ he warned.

Kira's shoulders heaved with a deep, heavy sigh. She nodded resolutely. “You, too, buddy,” she said softly.

She stepped off the ramp and took in the familiar, warm air of Dantooine. They landed at the edge of a familiar lake, just outside the ancient Kunda outpost. Both Rey and Caleb stood nearby, watching the Brith fly above crystal clear water with absolute awe. The large purple and white creatures swam through the air, their massive, undulating wings slowly following its currents. Kira could sit and watch them all day. She had, once upon a time. 

Actually, _physically_ standing on the surface of the planet, the unique pull of the Force on Dantooine almost overwhelmed Kira. The battles once waged on Dantooine’s surface left still-healing scars in the fabric of the world. And the natural kyber crystal caves, running beneath Dantooine’s quiet plains, were too loud to ignore. Their song was practically suffocating. 

Kira did not remember it _feeling_ like this, before. She spent months on the planet’s surface, years ago. She built her lightsaber and explored the ancient Jedi enclave. She delved into the ruins of an abandoned Rebel base. She crossed blades with a band of rather unhappy Mandalorian mercenaries, causing trouble for the locals.

Back then, the Force never felt so _hungry._ For what, however, Kira could not even begin to guess. She only knew that they could not linger. As she reached out, the caves called to her, like a massive bell cutting through the rest of the noise. Cutting through all the pain. The chiss woman in Kira’s vision — a potential jedi, if Kira's intuition remained intact — was _supposed_ to wait, until after. Or so the Force seemed to insist.

So, Kira pulled a very reluctant Rey and Caleb away from the lake. Rey walked beside Kira with an astutely alert stance, carefully watching the older warrior as they skirted along the edge of the valley. Kira suspected Rey must feel it, too. The strange energy of the planet would distract anyone tuned in to the Force. 

Caleb, however, was young and distracted by a myriad of other wonders. He wanted to go pet wild kath hounds — a very poor idea, if one wanted to keep their hand — and explore the outpost just visible over the hills. His youth and wanderlust would be charming, if the task at hand were not so serious.

The cavern entrance Kira once used was still present, not too far outside Kunda. The locals never ventured here. The kath hounds and rogue mercenary bands could be ruthless foes. And few who actually dared enter the caves running through Dantooine ever reemerged.

No one but a force sensitive could truly know what treasure lay within. It was, however, always curious how the Empire and First Order never laid waste to Dantooine. So many kyber-rich planets laid utterly destroyed, sometimes for very little of the substance that powered the Death Star and all the weapons she inspired. 

Dantooine, Kira mused, was much like Lothal. She hid her secrets well.

“We’re going in _there?_ ” Caleb asked uncertainly, glancing into the stark darkness. “This is a joke, right? A hazing, for the new guy?”

Kira pulled a blaster from her holster. She examined it closely, reconsidering one more time, before handing it to Caleb. “You’ll probably need this,” she said. “I’m betting you know how to use one.”

“What? You said I couldn't have — Why? W-what’s in there?” Caleb stuttered. He grabbed at the blaster with both hands, fumbling a little as he stared, dumfounded, at the weapon.

“Nothing the two of you can’t handle,” Kira said, standing tall. “Look within, and you’ll find the next step on the path.”

Rey scoffed, crossing her arms as she skeptically peered into the cave, “I thought we _weren’t_ doing the cryptic Jedi bantha-”

“I know,” Kira interrupted her, smiling softly. “But this one is actually important. I think. That’s what my teacher told me, when she brought me to this spot. The lesson — you have to learn the lesson yourself. This isn’t one anyone can teach you.” 

For a fraction of a second, Kira could see Ashoka, as solid as the three of them. The lithe togruta woman stood right to the left of where Caleb was standing, arms crossed, one brow marking raised. Kira, too, had protested this very test, only to be met with smug silence.

Kira blinked, and Ashoka vanished. 

“Very well,” Rey said confidently, palming both borrowed lightsabers. “Come on, Caleb.”

“Wait, why don’t I get a-”

“You’re not trained in the use of a lightsaber,” Kira said sternly to Caleb. “Not yet. Stick with what you know. Trust your instincts. Trust the Force.”

With one more wary — and very _annoyed —_ look backwards from Caleb, the two vanished into the darkness of the cavern. Kira sat, legs crossed, in the tall grass, guarding the cavern entrance. It took  _several_ deep breaths to calm herself. But, surely, the two of them could handle the kinrath. The giant arachnoids were not particularly pleasant to look at, but they would not take down a _Chosen One_ and a fledgling jedi. Especially if they could — for just a few minutes — learn to work together.

Kira was more concerned about the crystal cavern itself. Would they be able to feel the Force there, to let it guide them? There were many kyber crystals to be found beneath the planet’s surface. They were heading toward a treasure trove of kyber. Of the crystals that would power their new lightsabers. But there were only one, maybe two, _destined_ for each young jedi.

Kira pulled the Darksaber from the small of her back, studying its hilt. Had the Mandalorian who forged it, a thousand years ago, carefully attuned to his kyber crystal? How had the crystal changed, she wondered, with all the bloodshed and victory it witnessed in the generations since? How did it change, when she struck down Orane Saxon?

Clan Viszla never should have taken it. The Jedi never should have saved it. They ought to have buried the Darksaber with its creator, as was tradition.

Kira had half a mind to chuck the damn thing into the lake. 

Instead, she gripped the Darksaber’s hilt, sensing violence within the cave. The kinrath were on the offensive, more aggressive than usual. Something was riling them up. Not her padawans. Something else. Something Kira could not quite get a feel for, buried in the noise on Dantooine.

So, she focused, carefully following Rey and Caleb’s progress. Kira knew she might very well have to intercede, to protect her young students. Not against the kinrath, but something much darker. No, as Kira turned her attention toward the two young jedi, she watched them fight quite gracefully through the arachnoids. Caleb was exceptional with a blaster, showing a mastery that even made Kira a little jealous. And Rey was, of course, _Rey._ In a few short lessons, the girl from Jakku had taken to dual wielding lightsabers exceptionally well.

Kira was once told that every jedi had their own unique power, their path to walk. To connect naturally with the _raw power_ of the Force, while staying tethered to the light, was a rare thing indeed. Rey did not fight with the grace of a Jedi Knight of old. Rather, she wielded Kira’s sabers with the tenacity of an experienced warrior. 

Rey's energy stood in stark contrast to Caleb's. For all his smart ass banter, he was calm under pressure. He focused every blaster shot, aiming precisely and striking true. Instead of feeding off Rey’s fierce energy, he balanced it out.

They found their rhythm quickly, almost effortlessly. And the harmony between both young jedi filled Kira with serenity and sorrow. She watched the threads of destiny rapidly weaving together, winding down the clock. If the tapestry was rushed, what did that mean for the weaver?

After half an hour of fighting, both younglings emerged, covered in sweat and viscera, victorious in the heart of the crystal cavern. At its core stood a massive structure of kyber, ten feet tall and three men wide. All around the cave smaller crystals grew, blooming out of the planet's core. Kira saw the magnificence of it through her student's eyes. She felt Rey's exhaustion, relief, and trepidation. She felt Caleb's wonder and excitement. She remembered her own joy and pride. Kira remembered what it felt like,  _finally_ finding her path.

And she felt the crystals themselves. The residue of life and death that clung to such places. The crystals sang of Jedi and Sith who walked the very stone and earth beneath them, now long gone and forgotten. Their very essence had bled into the minerals, just as Rey’s and Caleb’s would. Their echoes both confused and guided, ghosts and poltergeists.

“There’s so many, and they’re so big,” Caleb said in awe, turning in circles to examine the cavern. “How do we find the right one?’

“Take a wild guess,” Rey said, a little uncertain. She placed the palm of her hand on the massive kyber crystal in the center of the chamber, and she reached out. 

“But, this whole force thing, I don’t even understand it,” Caleb protested. “You guys haven’t explained _anything._ ”

“We can’t teach you to feel it, to truly understand it,” Rey said. She gestured for Caleb to touch the crystal. He obliged, skeptically closing his eyes to mirror Rey as she continued, “You have to reach out, with your heart. It’s always been there. The light. And the dark. The balance. Protecting you. Guiding you. Leading you here.”

Caleb felt it. The pull in his heart, crushing and expanding and filling him up. Growing stronger with every second spent in the cavern. It was so much a part of him that the idea of it being anything special, something as magical as the _F_ _orce_ , was almost too hard to believe. Almost.

Back outside, Kira remained seated cross legged in the tall grass. She tried to focus on her pride. Rey was doing quite well. She was leading. She would be ready, when the time came. But Kira's breathing still grew heavy. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She had never tapped into the Force like this, not for such an extended period of time. It was draining her. 

“The Force paints your path. Where is it leading?” Kira said aloud, pushing the suggestion out to Rey and Caleb.

Their eyes snapped open in unison, hearing the voice like an echo. Like a half-remembered dream. Caleb looked over his shoulder, but there was no one else in the cavern.

“Creepy,” he muttered.

Rey flashed him a mischevious smile, but her expression hardened again as she returned to the kyber. She walked, slowly and carefully, around the cavern, tracing her fingertips along the center crystal's smooth surface. The crystals shone with their own light, like ice beneath an aurora.

Outside, at Kira’s feet, Ashara returned from her scouting mission in Kunda. The white loth-cat stood at attention, anxiety rolling off her in waves. Something was wrong at the outpost.

“Hurry,” Kira said aloud, this time only to herself.

It would not do to rush Caleb and Rey. They may only have one good shot at this. Dantooine was the safest place to find the kyber, for now. And, with the First Order on the rise, it might be the  _only_ place.

Kira reached out, further, trying to extend her senses out along the leylines of the planet. What was happening in Kunda? Where was the teacher? When Rey and Kira arrived on Nar Shaddaa, Caleb’s resonance through the Force rang out like a great and ancient temple bell. Here, however, even on this quiet world, Kira felt no sign of the chiss woman from her vision. And Kunda? Kunda was clouded. 

Kira tried to push through, elbowing her way through smog and static. Whatever was causing such disturbance in the Force, she needed to _see_ it.

  
And _that_ was when her vision opened, to an entirely different Dantooine.


	21. There is the Force

Kira sat, shocked into absolute stillness. She remained at the entrance to the cave, but a dozen figures had suddenly materialized around her. Some were frighteningly familiar, like specters from long-forgotten dreams. All of them were solid, almost mistakable for living people, here and now. Kira only knew such visions from ancient, shattered temples. From the strange and unmistakable magic of the Jedi of old. And of the Sith, on planets that were only distant, painful memories for most of the galaxy.

Kira struggled to her feet, her whole body weighed down. Her breathing came heavily, catching every time she observed a new detail. A thick fog took hold of her mind, trapping it, as she grasped fruitlessly for some understanding. Dantooine was a powerful place, but how could such a vision happen _here_? Kira was not capable of using the Force in such a way.

Was she?

Kira immediately recognized the Jedi Exile standing before her. Not by her face. No one knew what the Exile looked like. Scholars still argued over whether the Exile was a woman or man. Over whether she was truly Jedi or Sith. But Kira felt the way the Force moved _through_ the mysterious figure. It gave the Exile away. The Exile was somehow a wound, and a conduit, and an amplifier for the Force. All at once. She consumed the Force. And the Force radiated from her, like a dying star.

The two figures next to the Exile were unmistakable, as well. Surely no other _companion_ of the Exile could give off such sinister vibes as the infamous Darth Traya. The old woman stood, calm and waiting, the hood of her rough-spun brown robes pulled over her blinded eyes. And then there was a blond human man, flanking the Exile’s other side. It _could_ have been Atton Rand, _technically_. But the Disciple held himself in ready position, with the posture of a man clearly trained at a Jedi temple.

The trio — figures of myth, from two thousand years ago — faced off against a group of Mandalorians. Kira did not recognize their clan. Their armor was so ancient, their clan symbols so different, that it was impossible to place them. The Mandalorians spoke. Negotiated. But, while Kira could _see_ these ancient figures, she could not hear what they discussed. She stood, as if on the other side of a thick glass wall, only seeing part of the story. Yet, she knew how it would end. She knew a battle for Koonda — for Dantooine — was just around the corner.

The Exile shook her head resolutely, unsatisfied with whatever terms the Mandalorians offered. Darth Traya shot her would-be pupil a disappointed look. And then the lead Mandalorian fired the first shot. Even though Kira _knew_ none of it was real, she still staggered backward and out of the line of fire. She pressed her back up against the stone, right outside the cavern entrance.

Kira watched with awe, mouth agape, as three Jedi Masters — at least in form — took down the Mandalorians with practiced ease. Nearly every blaster bolt was reflected back. They were severely outnumbered, but the trio rarely took a hit. They deflected vibroblades and cut through their enemies with  _disturbing_ ease. They used _force lighting._  Even the Exile. The Disciple used the Force to  _heal_ , somehow, another person in the heat of battle. The Exile extended a hand, and, suddenly, half the Mandalorians were held in some kind of stasis field. Kira had never seen anything like it. She never knew the Force could be  _wielded_ in such a way. 

“What did I tell you? You need more practice.”

Kira felt her whole body go stiff with shock. She turned her head, emotion already pulling her throat closed, to see a very familiar face. The togruta woman stood, casually, on the other side of the cavern entrance. She looked younger, now. Her blue eyes were brighter. Her vibrant orange skin looked smoother. Kira supposed that you could look however you damn well pleased, once you became one with the Force.

“Ahsoka?” Kira managed to gasp, voice strangled. “What is this? I don’t understand.”

Ahsoka smiled serenely, gesturing to the trio. Two Jedi — the first Jedi, of the new order, after the Civil War — and the one who would betray them all. They now stood still, like a paused hologram.

Kira walked up to the figures, pulled toward their strange, frozen forms. She studied the hooded Exile more closely, examining everything from the deep brown of her eyes to the construction of her double-bladed lightsaber. The Exile was just a woman, up close. And yet, at the same time, she was _so_ much more. It was almost impossible to imagine any force sensitive not feeling _this_ , two thousand years ago. How could they not see what she would become? How could the Jedi Council misunderstand her purpose, and her scars?

“First Maz. Now you,” Kira sighed. “You’ve got the wrong girl, Ahsoka.”

“Maz Kanata had you study the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War for a reason, Key,” Ahsoka said.

Her voice was so serene. At peace. And far away. Kira looked sorrowfully at her old master, at the woman who saved her life. She was here. Even after everything, Ahsoka was _here._ All Kira wanted to do was give her old friend — one of the women who  _raised_ her — a hug.

Instead, Kira bit back a retort about Maz actually _being_ there during the Mandalorian Wars, and she stayed silent.

“I thought you were done running,” Ahsoka scolded.

An angry spark fired off in Kira’s heart, and she narrowed her eyes at Ahsoka Tano. “You’re gone. You’re done fighting,” she protested, tear spilling down her cheek. “ _You left me._ And now you’re telling me to take on _this?_ ”

Ahsoka walked up to Kira with sorrow-laden eyes, and she rested both of her hands on Kira’s shoulders. Kira looked up in shock. Ahsoka’s hands felt solid, the weight of them crushing and comforting in equal measure.

“I never left you. No one’s ever really gone,” Ahsoka said. “And I’m not telling you or asking you to take on anything, love. _I’m just going to make you remember who you are._ ”

The line hit Kira like a thunder wave. It was exactly what Kira told Orane Saxon. Right before she killed her.

Ahsoka pulled Kira into a hug. A solid, real, and _familiar_ hug. Kira grabbed tightly onto her, arms wrapping under Ahsoka’s montrals. Perhaps, if she could entangle herself with Ahsoka’s form, Kira could stop what was about to happen.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded, face buried in Ahsoka’s shoulder.

Ahsoka squeezed her padawan tighter. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

And then, in a blink, Kira stood alone on the plains of Dantooine. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. The world spun too quickly. It was impossible to process everything that just happened.

Because it  _was_ Ahsoka. It was real. Real as _anything_ Kira had ever felt.

 _It was Ahsoka._  She never left, after all.

And, just like Maz Kanata, Ahsoka Tano was apparently convinced of one very impossible thing. It was one thing to ignore Maz. That was easy enough, even if the old bat was almost always right, in the end. Kira, however, knew she could not ignore Ahsoka. Not after everything. Not now. 

Every force sensitive individual had a _gift._ An affinity for an aspect of the Force. Two thousand years ago, an exiled jedi bonded so strongly to other people it almost killed her. Kira knew that feeling all too well. And now, just like the Exile, she would harness it. She would help Rey find new jedi, and they would rebuild the Order that Kira once cast aside.

“Well, that was certainly exciting,” Rey's voice was far away, even as she emerged into the sunlight. She dusted dirt and specks of kinrath viscera off her cloak. “But let’s never do that again.”

“I dunno, it was kind of fun,” Caleb said. He bounded over to Kira and excitedly held up two kyber crystals for her to examine. “I think they _both_ like me! Oh ... um. Wait. What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did we do something wrong?”

“No,” Kira reassured him, wiping at her cheeks. She tried to focus on the present, though it was very, very difficult. She flashed him a proud smile. “You were both brilliant. It’s just that I took this time to _attune_ to Dantooine, and something’s not quite right. We need to head to Kunda. We need to find this teacher. But, you need to be on your guard. Caleb, you may even need to-”

“I’m not heading back to the ship!” he protested. “You should have seen me in there!” 

“I did,” Kira admitted, smiling genuinely at the wide-eyed awe that crossed Caleb’s face. She winked at him. “Old Jedi trick. Maybe I’ll teach you someday.” 

“He should come with us,” Rey said. “He did well in there. He earned it.”

Kira looked at the single kyber crystal that Rey kept clutched tightly in her fist. The crystal resonated strongly. Kira could feel the energy coming off both of them, the amplification of power. It was different. Kira hated to think it, but there was an aura of destiny about the young jedi. Even more strongly than before. 

“Come on, then,” Kira said, nodding begrudgingly.

After all, Rey was impressed with the boy. After their conversation on the  _Ghost,_ Kira wondered if that  _meant_ something. If Rey was impressed — and Kira was learning to trust the young woman's judgement — then perhaps Caleb had earned a promotion. 

A loud, impatient purr interrupted any further conversation. Kira snapped her gaze to Ashara. After locking her beady black eyes on Kira, the loth-cat darted out ahead of them. She sprinted toward the outpost, never looking back.

“Ash says to follow her," Kira said seriously, motioning for the two to follow.

They walked at a clip through the fields, carefully skirting any packs of kath hounds, and made it to the outskirts of the outpost in good time. Kunda was quiet, and nothing _looked_ out of place. Merchants bustled around the makeshift marketplace. A couple of simple-looking light freighters were in port. And a normal-looking guard rotation moseyed around the military outpost, very clearly bored with their posting. The disturbance in the Force, however,  _screamed._

They stopped at the border of town, beneath a giant, ancient-looking tree. Rey scanned the crowds, before looking over to Kira with concern.

“I feel it, too. What _is_ that?” she asked.

“Nothing good,” Kira grumbled. “Both of you, be on your guard.”

They pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, obscuring their faces with colorful scarves. Fortunately, their disguises blended well enough into the local manner of dress. With a meaningful look to Rey and Caleb, Kira lead them toward the outpost courtyard. 

“I don’t feel anything. Shouldn’t I feel someone — or some kind of messed up whatever — like the two of you?” Caleb asked.

“You do,” Kira said. “Trust your instincts. Look past the surface."

"I just — I'm just hyped up. I don't—"

"Forget the cave. I know it's hard," Kira said kindly. "Forget why we're here. Forget the craziness of the past couple of days. Forget Rey and me. Just be  _here._ What do you feel?"

Caleb followed her words closely, skepticism in his bright grey eyes. But, as she spoke, his expression changed. First, he seemed to understand. Then, Caleb was afraid.

"I feel like I shouldn't be here," he said quietly.

"It's okay. We've got you," Kira insisted.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Caleb almost flinched away, on instinct, but the boy caught himself. He looked up at Kira and took a halting, deep breath.

"I trust you," Caleb said.

HIs eyes glowed with some internal fire. With courage and fear in equal measure. Kira knew such words did not come easily. Such promises and faith were hard earned with the boy.

"And I, you," Kira told him, her voice soft. She straightened herself, returning to business with a resolute nod. "Now, come on. Let's head for the school.  _Caleb needs to enroll._ ”

Caleb groaned, his lips pressed into a tight line. He targeted a pointed, classic eye roll in Kira's direction.

Kira smiled, as a wave of nostalgia hit her. Funnily enough, she was not quite sure her reaction had anything to do with Poe. Of their time together, being obnoxious, troublesome teenagers. No, Caleb reminded Kira of someone else. But she could not  _quite_ put her finger on who it was.

It took little asking around to find the school. Kira never had reason to go there, before. But, once inside, the receptionist was apparently _thrilled_ at the prospect of a new student in the small, largely agricultural providence. Caleb played his part as the grumpy teenager rather perfectly. Not that it took much effort. And, when the receptionist slipped away to a back office, Kira followed suit. 

She hunted through the narrow halls, trying to find the classroom from her vision. There were only six of them, so it was easy enough. Kira peered through the window of a class in session, where a very young _human_ woman was lecturing.

Kira knocked lightly on the door, doing her best to play the innocent parent or older sister or _something._ Maybe she should have sent Rey to do the talking, but it was too late to turn back.

The human woman looked up, surprised, and came to the door. It slid open, and the teacher peered at Kira with curious, wide eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Actually, I’m looking for — I’m sorry, I forget her name — she teaches my cousin, but I thought she was in this classroom-”

“Oh, Dr. Isanah?” the teacher said apprehensively. Quietly. She stepped out in the hall and closed the door behind her. “You haven’t heard?”

“What? No, I’ve been out, er, hunting,” Kira said, glad her nerves did not seem out of place. “Did something happen?" 

“Well, you know how she likes exploring those Jedi ruins?”

“Of course. Pretty reckless thing to do,” Kira replied.

She played up the whole _small town gossiping farm girl_ vibe. Not that she was judging. Kira spent a few months, here and there, as a small town farm girl. Hell, she spent a few months as a farm girl _on Dantooine._

“Oh don’t I know it,” the woman said, looking annoyed. “I mean, she runs off — probably gets herself eaten by who knows what down there — and now I’m covering her class. What a bunch of brats. I mean, not your cousin, obviou-” 

“Oh, no, he’s totally a brat,” Kira cut her off, smirking slightly. “That’s why I was here. To discuss his _behavior._ But I’ll just have to come back-”

“Well, if you want to discuss with me-”

“Well, if something really happened to her,” Kira seemed to muse, frowning in that gossipy, _not really all that concerned_ way. “Then, yeah, I’ll be back. But, don’t worry about it right now. You look busy and _overworked_ as it is.”

The teacher sighed. “You’ve got that right. Well, _I’ll be here."_ She stepped back into her classroom with a meaningful, exasperated look.

Kira waited for the door to close completely, before she did a little victory dance. Just as Rey and Caleb came around the corner. They raised their eyebrows in amusement.

“What?” Kira said with a shrug. “Always celebrate your successes, padawans. Just don’t get cocky, obviously. Very important Jedi lesson. Now, come on. We need to hurry. Something’s _wrong_ at the old Jedi Enclave. This teacher’s in trouble.”


	22. The Place of the Fallen Rocks

The old Jedi Enclave hid its scars of war under bandages of earth. Tall grasses and winding tree roots blanketed the ruin, reclaiming it. At a distance, it was  merely  a strange, high hill. A quiet monument standing at the edge of Kunda, acting as a shield. Protecting the settlement from the harsh, grassy plains beyond.

As Kira, Rey, and Caleb approached,  however, their surroundings laid bare the truth. On the outskirts of town, the settlement’s smaller houses and shops stopped well short of the hill.  A buffer of wild grass stood between their simple, civilized lives and the rumored curses of the fallen Jedi structure. They called it “The Place of the Fallen Rocks.” They said none who delved into the depths ever returned.

So, as the trio drew near, they garnered rather odd looks from the civilians going about their daily errands. Who would dare to venture beyond the neat, dome-roofed houses? Kira's eyes lingered on the meticulous,  brightly  painted designs around the homestead doors. On the  carefully  kept gardens.

Still, they pressed forward, onto the ancient, reclaimed path of the no-man’s land between Kunda and the Enclave.

Up close, broken stone peeked out from beneath the soft earth and wild flora. Scars of orbital bombardment sang out from beneath tall grass and wildflowers.

“What happened here?” Caleb asked, his voice a low, grief-stricken hum. He ran his fingers along the stone, in a  surprisingly  reverent manner.

“War,” Kira answered. She scanned the ruins for the hidden entrance she knew all too well. “Hate. And emptiness. The kind of pain and destruction that comes from falling to the dark side. They killed everyone.”

“Sounds familiar,” Caleb said, so  quietly  Kira was unsure if he meant for her and Rey to hear it.

Rey caught Kira’s gaze, her own hazel eyes fraught with a million questions. And intense worry.

“Do you feel that?” Rey asked. She brushed away some vines, revealing a carved geometric design, it's meaning lost to time. Rey placed her palm flat against the stone, lost in reflection.

Kira nodded. She knew the sensations of the Enclave well. The locals' fear of the place was hardly baseless. The Enclave was not only filled with normal dangers. There was more to fear than beasts, cave ins, and even ancient, un-triggered traps. No, something darker clung to the ruins. All the death and destruction the Enclave  witnessed  seeped into the stones. The pain and violence was a part of the earth itself. 

Anyone with force sensitivity would feel it. A permanent disturbance in the Force. It was easy to understand where the mythical rumors and scary bedtime stories came from.

Yet, as she approached the ruin’s entrance, Kira knew something more lurked behind the ancient door. Something more sinister. And more recent. 

“Caleb, go back to the ship,” Kira ordered. She reached for the small of her back, to grab the flat hilt of the Darksaber.

“What? You just said I could stay,” he protested. Caleb grabbed for his borrowed blaster. “I know how to handle myself.”

“Listen-”

“Kira,” Rey interrupted, grabbing at the older woman’s hand. Rey pointed with the other, to a just-visible ship on the horizon. A distinctly First Order ship. 

“Fuck,” Kira cursed.

A part of her knew they should all run. They could leave Dr. Isanah to fend for herself. At least Kira would be sure of Rey and Caleb’s survival, even if it meant sacrificing a stranger. If they ran to the Ghost now, they could very well leave the planet undetected.

Kira's visions and nightmares flashed in her mind's eye. She had only seen Dr. Isanah for a moment. But the vision was thick with darkness, with pain and fear. If they left, Isanah would die. A _potential Jedi_ would die. At best. At worst, a far more horrid fate lay in store for chiss woman.

Kira cursed again, in a string of Basic and Ryl and Bocce. Even some Mando’a.

“Whoa. Well, that can’t be good,” Caleb observed, eyes wide. He smirked at Kira’s outburst, even as fear shone in his brilliant gray eyes.

Kira looked off to the horizon, toward the Ghost, consumed for a moment with doubt and sorrow.

"No," she said, more to herself than Caleb. She walked over to the Enclave door and opened it, unsurprised to find it unlocked.  With one hand clenched about the Darksaber hilt, her knuckles bone-white, she extended the other in warning to Caleb and Rey . “Anyone wants out now-” 

“No, we see this through,” Rey insisted.

“We came here for a reason. The mission,” Caleb agreed. “You had a vision. We have to help her.”

“ _I_ have to help Dr. Isanah,” Kira corrected. “I had the vision. The two of you-” 

“Are Jedi,” Caleb said. Fear still lingered in his eyes. But it mixed  brilliantly  with something more: a promise. Hope. “Wherever you go, we go.” 

Kira looked at Caleb, understanding for the first time. The galaxy had ways of making everything come full circle. Whether you liked it or not. Destiny weaved its poetry among the stars. This was her rhyme. _Caleb_ was her rhyme. Her _padawan._

“Get inside. Now,” Kira ordered. 

Rey and Caleb looked to each other, finding some kind of solace there, before they ran inside. Kira shut the door behind them, with one last worried look to the horizon. Absolute darkness swallowed the trio. On instinct, Kira's hands traced over metal and stone, fumbling for a dusty panel on the wall.  The Imperial relic — a security system from the Empire’s days exploring Dantooine — flared to life beneath Kira’s fingers . 

Somewhere, from the cobwebbed depths of her mind, Kira pulled an old string of numbers from memory. An override code. It would buy them some time, at least.

The  poorly  maintained mechanisms of the door groaned in protest. But the door locked behind them, and the panel's dim lights  abruptly  shut off. In total darkness once more, Kira brought the wrist of her prosthetic up to her lips and activated the comm link.

“Chop, I need you to do a scan. Do you see _it?_ ” she asked, spitting out the word in annoyance.

After a few seconds of terse silence, Chopper replied with angry, worried beeps and roars.

“I know. I know, buddy,” Kira said, gesturing  uselessly  in the darkness. “Get as close as you can, under their scopes. And be ready to go.”

Chopper protested, voicing every concern Kira had about staying planetside. She felt her heart burning in her chest, skipping a beat as Kira wished she could run. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was mournful,  barely  above a whisper now. “But I can’t. I won’t run. Not this time.  Just  be ready. I trust you.”

Chopper was silent, but Kira knew he would come through. He would be ready, _when_ they made it out of the Enclave alive.

Kira turned to Caleb, pride shining in her eyes.  Perhaps  a better Jedi master would have spared them. Forced them to return to the ship. But there was no time for such patient teaching. Not now. And Rey and Caleb were _ready_ for such desperate stakes. They were brave enough. They knew the courage of a hundred Jedi masters of old. 

Kira ignited her Darksaber, to actually see her two students. They stood at the ready, under the eerie, pale light of the saber. Rey was calm and resolute, with both lightsabers ready to go in her relaxed palms. She gave Kira a firm, reassuring nod. Well, it was hardly the young woman’s first time delving into a dangerous Jedi ruin, the First Order on her heels. 

Caleb gripped his blaster  tightly  — almost  dangerously  so — but he nodded to Kira with impressive resilience. She took Caleb’s hands in her own, relaxing his grip. Kira moved his index finger further from the trigger. The boy met her eyes with a sheepish grin, but he gave an understanding nod. 

Then, all instinct, Kira closed the distance between them, hugging Caleb with her free arm. He tensed up under her touch, for several uncomfortable seconds, before relenting. Caleb grabbed hold of Kira, clutching both arms around her back. They stood there, in silence and understanding, for longer than they could afford.

“I’m proud of you,” Kira said, pulling away. She kissed him on the forehead. If his skin were not already bright red, Kira would have sworn the boy blushed. “I mean it. I’ve known a lot of brave people in my life. And you’re up there, kid.

“Both of you,” Kira said, resting a hand on Rey’s shoulder.

Kira held back a little. She never said the rest. She never said that the two of them were ready. That she trusted them. That they would survive, when Kira was gone.

They would never believe her, anyway. Kira refused Ahsoka's same assurances, after all.

“Caleb, stay behind us,” Kira ordered. “Both of you, be ready for anything.” 

They ventured deeper into the ruins, shortly coming upon an entrance chamber. Three stories up, a domed ceiling stood, barely intact. Remnants of color remained, but time had stolen its design. Life and light bled through a few remaining openings at the dome's base. Memories of windows long ago destroyed. 

Kira turned off the Darksaber, bathing in the quiet afternoon light. Still, she kept the weapon at the ready. Caleb and Rey filed in behind her, padding through the rubble-strewn chamber. 

Kira once spent hours imagining what the Enclave must have looked like, before it fell. A dozen Jedi students conversing and reading, seated on the half-moon benches. The gentle, bubbling sound of water from the fountain at the center of the room. Painted light falling through stained glass windows. 

Now, only ghosts and bitter memories lingered among the trees. They reached up toward the hints of sky above.

Kira beckoned her students onward, toward the dormitories. There were bright lights strewn along the hall, new additions since Kira’s last visit. The doctor's doing,  perhaps. She led the others down the wide hall, with its dark stone and faded paint, listening for any hint of trouble. Every so often, an open or busted doorway showed signs of what once was. And what remained. 

Rows of beds in long rooms, most likely the dwellings of the youngest padawans, lay empty. Smashed chests littered the floor with abandon, looted millenia ago. Bones lay silent on the floor and in barren bed frames. Time and looters had stolen every scrap of fabric, ever blanket and padawan's robe. 

“This is terrible,” Caleb whispered. His horrified eyes fixated on one particularly small skeleton. “I know it happened so long ago, but—”

“Quiet,” Rey scolded in a harsh whisper.

Kira nodded, holding a finger to her lips. Then, more  gently, she added, “We know.  Just  keep moving.” 

For a moment, looking over at Rey, Kira remembered the young woman’s accounts of Ahch-To. Of everything Luke divulged. Of his failed academy, and the corpses of children left in the wake of its destruction. 

There had to be more to it. This could not be the fate of the Jedi. Unending, cyclical destruction at the hands of darkness. The Force, unbalanced, lashing out, its story written in the blood of children.

But how could they succeed where even _Luke Skywalker_ failed?

“Kira,” Rey whispered  anxiously. She motioned for everyone to get up against the wall, right at the edge of a blind corner. 

Shaking away the distractions that clouded her mind, Kira felt it, too. A disturbance in the Force, like a fresh tear in fabric. Or flesh.

Around the corner, they could hear someone. Or something.

Kira had a bad feeling about this.

She motioned for Rey to take watch around the other corner. Rey  fluidly  twirled her lightsabers, checking their weight in her palms. Only a hint of nervousness clouded her eyes. Rey nodded,  stealthily  heading to the other blind corner down the hall.

Kira shot a stern look in Caleb’s direction. The boy rolled his eyes. This time,  however, Kira did not smirk nor give way. So, under her unrelenting gaze, Caleb finally nodded. He adjusted his new-found, fluid grip on the blaster. Then the boy pressed his back against the wall, waiting.

With a deep and steadying breath, Kira stepped out to look down the next hallway. 

A woman crouched in the middle of the hall, oblivious to Kira’s presence. She wore a simple cotton shirt and  heavily  pocketed pants, all in black. Her skin was a  deeply  vibrant blue, and she pulled her navy hair up into a tight bun atop her head.

“Dr. Isanah?” Kira asked, taking a few cautious steps forward.

The woman jumped and looked up, startled by the intrusion. Her bright red eyes widened in shock, before settling into a kind, appraising smile.

“Goodness. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be down here,” she said. Her eyes appraised Kira, lingering on the blaster at her hip. “I am Dr. Isanah. But, who are you? How do you know my name?” 

“I’m sorry, doctor, but there’s no time to explain,” Kira said, taking a few more steps forward. “You’re in danger. I need you to-”

Something was wrong. It’s source,  however, alluded Kira amongst the static of the Enclave. _Everything_ felt wrong here. And the First Order’s arrival on Dantooine clouded Kira's vision even further.

Still, this new jolt in the Force was enough to bring Kira to a halt. She eyed the artifact Dr. Isanah was kneeling over. It was an ancient-looking vibroblade: a sword forged to stand up to a lightsaber in single combat.  Some stormtroopers and officers within the First Order wielded melee weapons based on the design. But it had been a long time since Kira set her eyes on a real _blade._  

Years ago, Kira searched every room of the Enclave. Looters stole nearly every scrap centuries before Kira was even born. The armory and equipment of fallen soldiers and scavengers was  certainly  the first to go. Only a few key, hidden stashes remained untouched. Hidden away behind doors only a Jedi could open.

“Where did you-”

“Kira!”

Kira snapped her head in Rey's direction, backtracking down the hall at the sound of her panicked yell. In the distance, she heard the song of lightsabers coming to life, followed by blaster fire.

In her distraction, Kira never saw Isanah raise her own pistol. Kira  intimately  knew the pain of blaster fire. There was always a stray bolt, a moment in battle where she was a hair too slow. A shoulder grazed, a cut across the face. Serious damage to her prosthetic, once or twice.

Her latest brush with death was the only time any mere blaster actually wounded her. And, even then, the damage proved only a minor setback. An inconvenience.

This time was different.


End file.
